Published on: 4/5/2015
Looking Back

I had a motorcycle
and I could have ridden it forever.
It wasn't even mine. It was my Dad's
and it was a small bike
with little horsepower.

I rode it on a gravel road north of Minneapolis.
The road had soft hills and tight turns
around barns and silos and farmhouses
and rows of high corn and yellow wheat fields
and after each turn in the road
when I couldn't see beyond the next turn
not knowing what was coming next
I was never so happy.