FIVE UP, ONE DOWN

Wassup wit speed?
Youthful flames with white hot tongues
Still flicker out to stroke erogenous memories of days long gone
When passions flared and dared to accelerate life to limits unknown,
Now lost beyond recall that assumes insanely wheeled vehicular
Velocities down recondite pathways towards mature boredom.
Age brings forbearance, tempered by fear, now that
Recollections of motorised hormonal  impulse fade,
Oddly muted by the squeak of bones and failed
Cortex.

The universal male drama:
Every living act aimed at recapturing that
Which once passed, can no longer be regained,
No vibrating echo of perfect physical energy unleashed
By two-wheeled constructs of energy-fed metalized emotion.
Looking back into the dim past of hippocampic neural connections
I vaguely perceive a one-time urgency to feed this beloved monster
Whose name may only be uttered in loudest tones of shrieking protest,
Ridden on the cushioned spine of motorcycled thunder.

What was it Aristotle once observed?
When asked how it felt in the darkling twilight of human life,
To now be denied the passionate pursuits and erotic entanglements
That immature forms of life carry as ineluctable, burdensome baggage on
The lightspeed journey that is unfettered youth?  A relief, that ancient august
Person noted, so we are told, to finally dismount the raging, snorting  stallion
And stable it in some pleasantly remembered, quiet pasture to graze,
Now no stranger itself to rheumy disconnectivities of ironic life.

One such stallion sits in my garage.
A monster on two wheels that can reach 60 miles an hour in 2.9 seconds.
Its mad, inertial doom arrested only by my failure to wake it one last time
To ignite great explosions of psychological defiance amid the burnt cinders
Of my own decelerating life, it sits there patiently lurking, malevolently plotting
My ultimate end, a cataclysmic death-wish in the making. All I need do
Is sit upon its saddle, turn the key and stroke it from its slumbers.
Who knows but death may be a better lover in this fatally erotic form?

A coital moment, 2.9 seconds from infinity, beckons.