The Ride

THE RIDE

Black Leather Riders
Mounting Steeds of Steel
Ready to ride roughly.
Adorned in medals and patches
Black jackets decorated
Like victorious generals
Home from gang wars

From their 300 bikes
Come a great rumble
Shaking the ground
Announcing their coming
Like an obscene blank angel
Announcing destruction.

Two by two they ride
Emerging from the Cycle Ark
Winding through the city
Like a long black snake
Moulting its skin
Becoming ever longer

Children and Parents
Run to the windows
Watching with awe and trepidation
At this riotous rabble
And wonder at this dark parade

Cars pull over as for a hearse
Bearing the dead body
But this hearse is several miles long
And the bodies in it are alive.

Bikers block lights
And the somber Procession
Winds through the city
Until they find the open road
Then long hair is flying
And leather slaps in the wind

And they ride with great might
In leather and black
With wild and reckless abandon
The procession moves faster and faster
Under the stars and into the night
Formed up once
Never seen like this again.

H.D.