I like yer dogs

She was fresh from the ocean

her dogs leaving wet trails

dark jeans that wet blue

close fit red shirt hanging right

cold hard nipples biting through

I like yer dogs I said

more in response to the situation

than leave everything unsaid

why thank you her reply

we talked for a while

her Lurchers sitting patient

as she talked of origins

their spirit

then she looked at my bike

I talked through the changes made

what makes a bike a chopper

she showed me pics

of her dead daddy’s pride & joy

stocker bike not my kind of thing

but we were in the sharing space

strangers giving over bits of their life

then she mentioned her husband

more than once more than twice

& a man takes his hints

says thank you nice to meet you

it’s been good

my buds are calling me back

time to ride

she smiled sweetly

her dogs soft at her feet

& all y’gotta do is play nice

the world will come & meet

one at a time

I bought the box

based on the pretty picture

on the outside

but once I got to know her

I knew it was time to leave

but things are never that easy

when the world catches your sleeve

asking what did she do so wrong

makes you say no thank you

instead of the pretty please?

& the little things

one at a time

never amount to much

yet they stack up with ease

though you feel like a fool

leaving the pretty picture

walking away from the smile

that treated you like a disease

Promoting the cause of motorcycling

we’d had a good long day

sitting in the sun

all the way thru’ the backroads

up & over the foothills

stopped here & there for the view

come & gone a good long way

heading for home

maybe fifty to go

& I stop for gas

she goes in to pay

this little honey in a thin dress

sashays over to say

that is a beautiful motorcycle

can I sit on it please?

as she sits I see her smile wide in the mirrors

my old lady comes back

with less than a smile

what’s going on here?

I say the young lady liked the bike

wanted to sit for a while

& me?

I’m just promoting the cause

of motorcycling…

Being exposed to the sickness

makes it easy to jump in

have that one extra

maybe just a little more

& he gets the company he needs

keeps him going to make it ok

but you have to get up & go

as he says stay for just one more

& your will can take a sagging

while his grows in the asking

enough is when he is lying on the floor

so you have to get up & go

say a man’s got shit to do

leave him in his choices

yours is walk out the door

being exposed to the sickness

takes the fun times

to the next level

& love him tho’ you do

you cannot do this anymore

there is little anger here

which comes as a bit of a surprise

to be sure

there is

the every day frustration

comes from being so close to each other

cheek by jowl living

sniffing the stench

of the others ‘pits

hot assholes

places to itch

if not be scratched

the reasons of the why

living close to the floor

unable to raise the price of a roof

access to the better world

that little bit more

He’s gone loco

these days

wants to convince me

of how we should

all

live right

there’s a campaign

there is always

a campaign

a petition

a march

a protest

and if we don’t get behind

well

we’re all fascists

eh?

and there is always

a pull on our heads

to do this

get that right

a something to

get in the way

of living for you

healing

but no

we must walk this way

his way

and all I can think

is

if you are going to go

the full jesus

walk lightly

on the water

eh?

swapmeet

the ground covered in peanut shells

while the bands play on

ranchera & mariachi

drawing the crowd in

to appreciation

dance

it is possible to furnish a home

from here

careful blend of new

& 2^nd user

clothe yourself

& your family

in the car park buy a cheap car

while in the road

families sleep in their pick up trucks

in this the silent war

we the people

with so little

get to see the sunrise

for free

I try to listen

hear the words

being said

the tone

underlying

meanings

the

between the lines

unsaid

& it exhausts me

when that

does happen

I’m alive

to the

me & you

in-betweens

possibilities

we could ever want

& then

like a red admiral

in November sun

on a stone step

it is gone

back in babylon

some things we do not say

though we are forced to shout

thank you

to our hosts

at every turn we take

& if there is one thing I miss

it is not the heat wavering peaks

but the eagles

soaring away over the plains

oblivious to what we speak

so thank you to our hosts

for being back in Babylon

the lessons we must learn

all that we take

for here in Babylon

so few live high

get to dip their beaks

Digging

Living in nowhere

out in the sticks

replanting

laying

old hedgerows

which carry surprises

scrap metal

holed water tanks

puzzling bits of cars

bedsteads

motorcycles

an old hand plough

that I donated

to the local museum

a cheese pail

repainted now

with a new use

holding umbrellas

building a pile

and wondering

what to do with

rusty hand saws

buckets?

Another winters day

my friend Pete

and I

filled a trailer

battled the ice and snow

to the scrap yard

to weigh in

piled out the

bits and pieces

from the centuries

of discard

and waited

after a long while

the little window

opened

a hand popped out

& a deep voice

rumbled

“which of you wants

the 1.50?”