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biker to the bone rant and rave
okay, bubba
so the old lady has
got the "why didnt you call
me on your lunch hour ? " blues
and frankly why bother to stop to
check even once as you blast off 28 onto 16 east
coz, after all none of
us sane crips would never think of hittin
Wellington circle on a
lovely late afternoon
and after all
this $8500.00 butt ugly
silent ride I got under my ass
aint got a hand-tooled
Paul Cox seat or a shiny purring big ole
v-twin with legal
apehangers up front
to make you wish she'd shut the Christ up &
hang up so you could at least gawk before hitting
me ....now- would
that be before or after they've packed what's left
a me into
an Armstrong ambie up to the Whidden ER?
but shit- if I were a cagier with a conscience; which you
aren't
I'd
seriously
check twice, bubba:
you might save your life
from becoming attached for life to mine
(from having to be wiping my sip and puffed ass
and the
job that became yours AND hers-
coz
yeah, us crips do check twice for
aholes like you as we
come outta Starbucks clutchin an iced venti
w/soy milk ready to head on home
to the subsidized crib;
you know those towers on
Riverside? yeah, thats home...
and yeah, us crips get a smidge frustrated
when ones celly is so far up your ass
and your mind is so not in touch with
reality that:
you make me have to jump up and holler
throw up both my splinted hands
use words even the most salty
Merchant Marine ain't even used since Guam days;
and you (oops!) almost swallowed your
blackberry blueberry cherry
or peach piece of electronic plastic shit
when this coffee clutchin
crip
actually spoke real understandable
yet quite angry words;
lept outta my grey caddy of
powerchairs-
did that enrage you even more
sir bubba? or
was it the Starbucks cup:
(i will drink Dunkins if i gotta)
my eloquent curses
or the
if "i gotta explain you dont surely dont
understand"
t i'm wearing?
or was it pissin you off
that i appear to feel as if i gotta some kinda
rights like the rest of the world;
and it sure po'ed the tanker driver
w/the screamin' eagle sticker on
his narrow back window
that you, mister very berry
chatter, eye rollin
gotta get home to get that
Bud and try to cop a feel
while she's packing to splint
again
fed up with you too,
again.
you sho didnt pay me any mind; me,
the venti sippin
one foot on the asphalt
for balance I don't need
but its knee-jerk
you know
and speakin a knee jerks,
oh king of beers worshipper
mister trucker almost
knee jerked you right outta
your cage;
that got your attention, huh?
tighty whities a tad stained
from that?
or was it the half a dozen lynch
mobbin wantna Bud too, dude!
honking horns
behind your fool ass
while I sat there laughing
and getting pissed off coz
my venti
wasn't venting like me
and frankly
while my pill vial says i ain't supposed
to be operating heavy machinery
i coulda threw my 200 pound
krip kaddy through your windshield one-handed
coz it took me twenty minutes to navigate
the mess that is always
Wellington (with no fear) and, damnit!
tore the oh so plush pleather
corner of my chair gettin into a supposedly
accessible Starbucks
but hey! thats just a day in the life of
this biker to the bone cripple
chick
who's 52 goin on 22
that could probably swing a rip
hammer with finer aim
than you'll ever have
probably turn on a dime with my eyes closed
and not knock over a 20 oz in the road
on a nickel bet
and, 'scuse me mister bubba-
you still lookin at the trucker comin up
beside your window
or me- smirkin-
remember me?
the crip just tryin to head home like the
rest of the world
and. man. where are the staties
in the station across the way
Kappys or Dunkins drive-through
while you're about to
experience a drive BY trucker
rip your ignorant throat a new
adams apple-
or was that your first ?
man, you need to head back to drivers ed
coz makin a right turn even slowly
now
could be done better by a blind
80 year old Asian grandma;
and hey-you blow-
and not well
coz now my venti is tastin like hot diesel
and unlike iced dark roast any more. ahh...
the things a girl has to do to
get her 5 mile per hour
(top speedin') oh so cozy
and stylin ride across a busy street.
it WAS well worth the grin and that wink from
the Abenaki driver, though.
heard enough, bubba? but, oh- wait!
best slow down;
that rotary across the bridge is
a bitch too;
kinda like me.
one more thing:
you could learn a few driving tricks from mama
san. and, that aint sayin much.
weakkneez@msn.com
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