i was jealous, but i don’t know why <br />perhaps it was because i felt emasculated, <br />picturing you on the back of that crotch rocket <br />tightly hugging his denim-clad middle-aged belly trying <br />to hang on as he whisked you thru the streets of town <br />with the wind in your hair and a laugh on your tongue <br /> <br />no doubt he fantasized as you both rode <br />about how he wished you would straddle his <br />fat waist like you straddled that wide seat <br />riding him and laughing and whipping your hair <br />like the winds against his hairy chest, <br />tracing his tattoos with your slender fingers <br /> <br />but you are quite the ingénue <br />and your youth endows you the spontaneity <br />to just hop on the back of some strange mechanic’s <br />Harley while his slack-jawed lackeys who <br />rotate your tires look on in envy <br />wishing they had a Harley, too <br /> <br />and perhaps i felt threatened because, <br />while that same mechanic gleefully surfs <br />the crest of his midlife crisis, <br />i drive an SUV with a baby seat strapped in the back <br />i can see the tide of my own midlife crisis <br />start to roll in to drag me out to sea<br /><br />Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/crotch-rocket/
