The Final Act Of My Guardian Angel Poem by Nat Z. Punx

four a.m.
rosie's bar
turn the switch
while you feel the metal contact
grind and twitch
through your fingertips
the last delicate tactile feeling for a while
kick the glide twice
eyes vibrate
turn the switch again
you can barely feel it
without squeezing tight
then the light
shines
and begins to resonate
onto the blacktop
still hot
no time to destinate
grab some clutch
hear the basket sing
thunk into gear
fling
like someone dropped an anchor
in your gut
and potato putt
to the stop sign
crack twice
take my advice
don't want to load it up
run it out a bit
i'll catch up in a sec
don't let'er lope
hit second with a bang
hear the chain clang
make sure you got enough rope
just enough rope to hang
end up on I-74 somehow
me and crazy bob
nellie and sweet virginia
crossin the bridge
we pass the paperboys
red and sporty
ironhead and a new twelve hunnerd
both shovels just screamin'
let up for a second on the exit
adams street
screw it back on hard
cruiser in the projects
off to my right
not sure
maybe it was just the light
no time to think
70 plus
by the time we cross wayne
surface street madness
cross spring
still pulling strong
tracks
komatsu curve
nice broad 45 degree
funny crown
flirtin' with the century mark
roll in hard
run close against WABCO brick
so close i can almost touch it
or a telephone pole
ear ripping reverb off the wall
sing me back home
we need gas
alexander street? ?
way too soon
right foot
heavy and hard
right hand stroking
in more ways than one
can't make the first entrance
roll in clean on number two
too fast to catch the front pumps
swing into the back
backslappin and laughin
adrenaline and alcohol
that funny opaite in jeiggermiester
pumpin gas and stretching
ears still ringin
hear the sporties in the distance
parade polite
because they had
an escort
and we wondered aloud
what THEY did
guess i did see that cop