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Uneasy Rider

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Falling in love with a mustache
is like saying
you can fall in love with
the way a man polishes his shoes
                of course,
                is one of the things that turns on
                my tuned-up engine

                those trim buckled boots

                (I feel like an advertisement
                for men’s fashions
                when I think of your ankles)

Yeats was hung up with a girl’s beautiful face

and I find myself

a bad moralist,

a failing aesthetician,

a sad poet,

wanting to touch your arms and feel the muscles
that make a man’s body have so much substance,
that makes a woman
lean and yearn in that direction
that makes her melt/ she is a rainy day
in your presence
the pool of wax under a burning candle
the foam from a waterfall

You are more beautiful than any Harley-Davidson
She is the rain,
waits in it for you,
finds blood spotting her legs
from the long ride.

Diane Wakoski, “Uneasy Rider” from The Motorcycle Betrayal Poems (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1971). Copyright © 1971 by Diane Wakoski. Reprinted with the permission of the author.
Source: The Motorcycle Betrayal Poems (1971)
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Uneasy Rider

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