The open road possesses my soul
leaning to and fro,
into and through the curves of the road.

The curves life throws.

I glide, I fly, down these thoroughfares,
these desolate highways,
back roads, and byways.

Adrift on the wind that surrounds me.

Pounds me,
fills my bones, 
with its heat,
with its cold.

With a satisfaction of freedom
I've only ever known,
on two wheels.

My motorcycle is a time machine
that transports me to years long ago.

I am ageless as I hurdle forward.

A faceless, genderless soul,
behind a visor of golden sun,
obscuring the time traveler within.

But even though you can't see me,
I can assure you I am smiling. 

And I will be until
my ride reaches its end.