I am sitting in the porch swing hanging from the tree out front
It is a perfect ending to an incomprehensibly amazing day
It's 2 am
Hard to even imagine all of the sycronise happenings
That were strung together to bring me to this moment
I'm still replaying them in my mind
I hear it before I see it
The Harley, that is, that rounds the corner to my right
And I know, in that way you just know things
It isn't over yet
I silently ask without any real words
"Really?" As a little smile creeps onto my face
My own machine is surely still crackling in the garage
As the next pearl is being slipped, ever so gently, onto the string that makes up my day
It is loud and breaks the stillness of the night
Even the leaves on the trees quiver with delight
I am almost laughing as the bike pulls to a stop
Headlight blinding me like a spot light saying
"You're on in ten!"
And just like that it begins. . . or continues
Another fantastically imperfect person I love has arrived as if on cue
We sit together, we stutter words that fail to express, and we laugh
Probably for different reasons, but this is here. . .now
We both know we are going to ride
The present is closing in around us on all sides
Before long 3 machines and 4 riders are thundering down Truman Rd
Heading straight into the pumping heart of a sleeping Kansas City
It is a perfect night and even though the moon is out, the sky it hangs from is black . . .black as night
Nahko flips on in the juke box in my head. . .
"I believe in the good things coming. . .coming coming coming"
The night people are out
The contents of the buildings variously lit up and displayed
A hoge poge of strange things
As the city begins to come into view against the black sky
AT&T's giant blue logo appears like a second moon from some fantasy world
The building it hangs high upon, indistinguishable from the sky
I watch it grow, encased in the sound of the bikes echoing off the buildings
We bob and weave on through the endless variety that only an inner city can express
Until we reach the heart. . .or maybe just a small pumping station
This particular pumping station is a little dive dinner
Teeming with life, every conceivable form of it, it seems
There are cute slutty girls in skimpy clothes
Gangster rappers and cops wrapped in gadgets
We all fill the joint and spill out into the street
The air is filled with conversations and noise
I can't tell which is which
The bikes sit out front with light glittering off all the chrome pieces
A truck rolls slowly by with some rap playing so loud
It is threatening to blow the doors and bumpers off from the inside
Sex is in the air too, even the cop can't resist it's pull
I stand there slowly rotating in place trying to absorb it all
The characters are each so different
The play almost incoherent
But there is something magical tying it all together
Weaving through even the tiniest particle
Bringing it all together in such a way
I feel I am witnessing something created far from here
In a place where they can understand such complexities
And it is being broadcast here in some holographic form
Distinctly for my personal enjoyment
The cop announces our food is ready
And we sit & stand on the sidewalk filling our bellies
In the middle of a live performance of a play I can not name
The ride home is slow and easy
No one's in a hurry
My mind replays everything as I take everything in in reverse
I look back, the odd blue moon still hangs in the black sky
What a strange and wonderful life
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