Monday was a fail all around for posting. Spent most of it on the road coming back form a trip. At least it's going up today. Look close, and you can see the biker who soared past me on Sunday. Titled the poem after the name of the farm I walked by in China, Maine.
Two Loons
Lonely biker,
brave beautiful bastard
on bare Maine road.
Likely too broke,
not enough beer money
for a tankard of gasoline.
No doubt he wonders
why I'm walking,
not trucking through blues.
Big rigs fly by,
give us big berths,
preserve odd things of nature.
Two Loons
Lonely biker,
brave beautiful bastard
on bare Maine road.
Likely too broke,
not enough beer money
for a tankard of gasoline.
No doubt he wonders
why I'm walking,
not trucking through blues.
Big rigs fly by,
give us big berths,
preserve odd things of nature.
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