Boys on Motorbikes

Thoughtless thrumming his waistband
Thumbs hooked in belt loops carelessly
Gently steering from the hip
Winding through the canopy
Soft shoulders and swatting pines
The canopy closes in
Chain kicks slack and useless
Tires carve crescents in the grass
«Haven't you seen enough to know for sure
To look for me. Oh, Honeybee.»
«Haven't I seen you on the backs of motorbikes
Whirring through tunnels into the prickly light
Past the lava fields, through the lemon groves
Bare legs kicked out from the sting of chrome?
Haven’t I seen you on the backs of motorbikes
Head tucked just inside the roar
In the stillness between his shoulder blades?»
…hold this hollow so dear
Just like the ones before
Just like the ones stripped bare
By the swollen sea…
These boys, so familiar;
These boys, so slippery
Just like the ones you left for me
Oh Honeybee
You have fallen to sleeping
In this brindled light
Freckles in blooms cascading
From pink shoulders into the white…
The down below
The untouched touched
These pattered down places, a mess
I’m waiting for the rise to fall
Knuckle to your lips
Waiting for the rise to fall
The fallen to rise
Waiting by the swollen sea
«Oh, Honeybee, please answer me
Oh, Honeybee…»