Flathead Harley Poem by Robert Eckstein

I kick the flathead Harley into life
And sit for half a minute while the oil warms up,
Then, still in neutral, roll down your driveway toward the street.
Click into first, and turning left, I see your silhouette
Behind thin curtains at the door.

I want to gun the motor, hit the horn,
Let you know I see you standing there;
But it's late, past one AM, your family's asleep.
I've no need to wake the neighborhood.
I ease the clutch and roll into the dark.

An hour and a half, a hundred miles away
I stop, still warm from that last kiss,
Already missing you, still feeling vibrations
From the motor although it's now shut down.
I hear faint squeaks and pings as the hot metal
Cools and contracts. Before I take my helmet off,
I hear the echo of my heart, blood coursing through
My head and neck. And I think of you,
I hope it will not cool too soon.