Let's Go

Should I buy a Harley? I’m thinking about it. We could just take off, you and me. Tell the world to go fuck itself. Feel the wind in our hair. Well, maybe your hair. We can catch flies in our teeth and breathe fresh exhaust from the mufflers of semis. I want you to go with me babe. Please. We could just ride until the bike disintegrates and then go from there. I could get famous writing; buy a house made of shipping crates in California. Yeah, one of those modern green homes. Come on what do you say? I want to feel you kiss my neck and taste the road grit as we ride. I’m coming into a little cash and I’ll sell the house. Sell my furniture. Cash in my retirement fund. What? You want to stay in Harrisburg? Forever. Are you fucking with me? Well, then I will ride alone. Go so fast I can’t think about you—memories of you unable to cling to my mind. I’ll send you a postcard and one of those turquoise necklaces from New Mexico. I’ll miss you always but I’d rather ride than stay in this fucking place…