by Ben Rasnic
Through a glass darkly
the flaming wings of a Harley
motoring oval pavement,
precariously weaving between lanes;
sleeveless shirt of an Angel
billowing in the wind
like a parachute, yet even that
will not cushion the descent
when the unforgiving
fabric of asphalt
unfurls to greet
the inevitable fall.
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Like the imagery in this one a lot.
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