Saturday Morning Poem by William Kofoed

Put the headset on
adjust the boom mic
launch the software
in the manuscript write

outside of my room
lit with artificial lights
cold black night sky
over empty city now

seeking words hard
filled with many nouns
defining images sharp
that I would rather not write

motorcycles once owned

my first was small and red
oil mixed in gasoline
would only go thirty-five
took a long time

in college long ago
in winter of bitter cold
long walks or frozen rides
where ever I would go

much faster I would ride
on triumph somewhat old
a six fifty vertical twin
knobby tires wide

gas tank of mustard yellow
a bag rack of shining chrome
straight black tubing
with sharp bends
a chain that stretched
soaked in oil

at certain speeds it ran rough
setting timing switches hard
feeler gauges thin and straight
to set gaps just so right

timing was set by
turning mounting plate
under plate of chrome
held with steel screws two

a shafted triple next came
of bright blue and shining chrome
with fairing so very wide
and tall windshield

and a cargo trunk
on the rear
of bright white
and somewhat small

a nice seat
room for two
comfortable for
very long rides

times did change as always do
two wheels then became four
and room to carry
many more

looking out at cloudy sky
troubled by what once
I did ride