you can't make this up

Ah, Arkansas, where the holy trinity is Father, Son and Harley.
In case you'd like to find out about services at the Biker Church. . .


James Dickey (From the Good Side) said...

And I to my motorcycle
Parked like the soul of the junkyard

Restored, a bicycle fleshed
With power, and tore off
Up Highway 106, continually
Drunk on the wind in my mouth,
Wringing the handlebar for speed,
Wild to be wreckage forever.

Claudia said...

Well, yes. Didn't know this one. Nice.
It is Highway 101.

Getting The Boss's Back said...

I believe the title of this poem is Cherrylog Road. And it's penned by The second-best American poet.

The first, of course, is grown out of The Garfen State, and is probably selling out a stateside show right now.