The tides we mark. Levels gained,
uprooting the changes from what once was.
Shoot for the stars. It’s the high tide of
holding the prize; a long way up and the
fall is loud.
A sliver of light is enough sun for me while
working till sweat pours like the rain,
its what I like, all that wet and shine.
Fill the tank, slide right in. Songs transport
the tires into speed. Horsepower
kicking carbs with fire; a heavy foot with smiles
tonight. Up ahead, there’s a diner we like.
Roger Singer 