A smooth head tilt toward the sidewalk, he gently gestures for us to cross When ignored, he snaps a bent leg into place as naturally as he's attracted to men soft, intelligent eyes glinting through his rainbow helmet
His cycle stutters like he did when asking Jason out, breathing out life like he breathed out "I love you", a mustang anxious to rear up and gallop He soothes the handlebars with steady palms, then unleashes his bike's power as soon as we're safe on the other side,
off to meet up at a romantic café with a man named Peter Ryde.
I was crossing the street this morning and saw the most passionate look in this motorcyclist's eyes. I had to write about him.