Harley Davidson Outside The Wellbeing Centre
Twotentacletashed chrome Cthulhu's shrunkenhead is the engine
Shrunkenheadlocked by those same twin exhausts, silver snakeface's
extension.
Sycamores overhang the suntrap courtyard, primaestival leaves
mantisgreen.
Sanctum sanctorum of the canopy a penumbral shade of hunter's green.
Leatherette saddle getting toasty as a witch's familiar in hot tin coven.
Panniers of jetblack fibreglass, some shrouded Schrodinger's
catcarriers ebon.
Prima facie: Buddhist biker parkedup for a guided meditation.
Or p'haps he (or she) is not proverbial easyrider, but here for karmadumping 1-to-1.
Stereotypes scream readily to mind like silvermachines of rather pedestrian
Fancy. Maybe this hog's a trendy vicar's, parishioner riding pillion
To the heathen Wellbeing Centre for acupuncture crown of ferns?
Whether Hell's Angel of Mercy, Pirsig reader or swami as the Stig,
mystery remains.
For visor on the skid lid stayed shut tho' ajna chakra might be open.
Where cross cliches of the open road & path to innerpeace,
a chink has been riven
Thru which a stranger's authenticity outstretches,
revving my imagination.