Motorcycle Mama by Alan Catlin

She had a heart
tattooed on her
right arm, a baby
in a carriage on
the left, a phoenix
rising between her
breasts, both eyes
focused dead ahead,
forged in fire, riding
the sacred Harley
night leaving tracks
on her skin as
if it were black top
on a moonless night
her friends and relations
shot things down in
for fun, on some Route
66 in her mind;
the way she was hauling
ass she would need a
road crew to do plastic
surgery on her life
unless she let up
on the throttle
but by then it would
be too late.

One Response to “Motorcycle Mama by Alan Catlin”

  1. Doug Draime Says:

    Alan, been an admirer of your work for years. You’ve brought another one home with this one, man. Excellent, not a false step. I swear I know this chick.

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