maybe it was the motorcycle
that first set me off
the way it gave you entrances like a valkyrie
a roar I'd hear echoing off the buildings
long before your headlamp burnt the road at my feet
the power to escape temporal things
leaning into the wind
taking corners in the palm of your hand
but it's dresses that hooked me
the way they implied fields
and the first fall of apples
an ease with the earth I've never felt
they gave me this idea
that powers higher than your engine
or my legs
had given it some thought
and figured out a way
to clean the city's dirt
from a small pair of hands
and give a voice
to the grass, the trees, the wind
and the pair of wheels
which marked the asphalt where I stand