When I see motorcycles on the freeway, I always think
they look like cars that are being punished for something.
It seems like the authorities have taken away all their
pretty clothes and left them naked,
wandering the highways,
nothing left but their iron-rod ribcages and rubber-soled feet.
But they didn't merely strip them;
they've streamlined them, made them faster,
allowed them to go places and do things
taboo to those still bound to a chassis.
The exhaust has hardened and polished their skin,
the sun has turned their backs to leather,
and by roaming the highway naked,
it's made them beautiful and incredibly proud.