Take Her And Go

By Ashwath Ramesh

Brazen, you ask, ‘how much will suffice’,

Like I would ever name a price!

Take her, my man, take her and go,

She is worth more than mere show!

There she glares, the beast you would tame,

Red as rouge, the blush of shame;

There she stands, the mare you would mount,

In scars of action, too many to count!

There she lurks, lethal and low,

A hulking hull, a rim aglow;

There she waits, the bike you would ride,

Wheels of night, of toughest hide.

She watches you, her eyes alight,

A gentle beam, that belies her might;

She lists, she listens, a tilted ear,

A mirror a side, that handbars bear.

She looks the same, years hence,

Since when I first paid her pence,

Since when I first took that seat,

And rode round, heart abeat!

Hear my tale, an ode to life,

With she who’s dearer than a wife;

One cut abrupt, with an arm lost,

I am minded to give her for no cost.

Years of joy, years of life,

Of senses honed like a knife;

Years adrift, Years of love,

Years that passed, I cared not how!

To kick a lever, thrust a throttle,

To feel the thrum, the metal bottle,

The click of a gear, the jump ahead,

And wind in the face, as she sped!

For days we rode, a bonded pair,

In thrill, in bliss, in fear, in despair!

Through miles we flew, swift and bold,

In sun, in rain, in heat, in cold!

And now I stand, a man in pain,

A man driven to give her for gain!

A man whose past has been but her sight,

A man whose hence she shall never light!

Brazen, you ask, ‘how much will suffice’,

Like I would ever name a price!

Take her, my man, take her and go,

She is worth more than mere show!

For the sights we saw, the rides we ran,

For this bond between beast and man,

For her to get back what we lost,

I am minded to give her for no cost.

There she sits, a shadow, spent;

A story of sorrow, in a single dent!

That mark you see, that snaking scar,

That remnant of that bloody car!

Blind he was, mired in drink,

He pushed me to the very brink!

Sleeping, slipping, sliding, swerving,

He made me this broken thing!

A flash of light, a boom of sound,

And I was bleeding on the ground!

A surge of faces, a slip of time,

And my arm is a stub, encased in lime!

I watch her now, that’s all I do,

And I dream, I’m sure she does too;

Of one last ride, her and me,

Something that now can never be!

And now I stand, a man in pain,

A man driven to give her for gain!

Where once I perched, proud as a prince,

Dust gathers, in motes, in evil grins!

Brazen, you ask, ‘how much will suffice’,

Like I would ever name a price!

Take her, my man, take her and go,

She is worth more than mere show!

By Ashwath Ramesh