I watch you ride by and envy you the thrill
yet if I could knock you out of that saddle
still I would not.
You grip the rope;
your hand is white with wrapped windings
binding you to the arching, heaving flame.
You breathe long and steady through clenched teeth.
In tense smile density
Choked to thicken the mix
throttled to endure.
Then back to idle when the heat arrives.
I have no license, don’t even know the gears.
I have felt that mane, those flanks
Ride on, and may you never fall
though this iron horse can never be tamed.