You used to be a biker, a road warrior,
The open road was your joy
Now, you're a legal eagle in Bad Homburg,
peering at me from half-moon spectacles.
Boy, the wheels have turned so quickly
leaving us at middle-aged.
Now, you step out of your BMW;
This is quite a journey, sir, from rebel biker
to the boardroom of the law-firm.
Books and legal documents claim us
in a crazy normal paper chase.
The old bike sits in the garage and rusts
while we're living to work, respectables,
getting lost in the boring details.
Stable, solvent, but the reality is worse:
We're hamsters in Bad Homburg.
I guess it's called settling down. But you're right about the boring.
Coincidentally, the dynamo leader of my writers group, who has worked in some legal capacity most of her life, is a former biker chick. A fellow biker rider and her, have a website on motorcycle safety and have published several books on the matter.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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Coincidentally, the dynamo leader of my writers group, who has worked in some legal capacity most of her life, is a former biker chick. A fellow biker rider and her, have a website on motorcycle safety and have published several books on the matter.
Ron