Chopper

1969 and the Easy Rider poster
hung in a place of honor
in my bedroom,
right beside the dayglo peace sign.

But imagery was not enough
we needed the thrill of the open road.
So we chopped the front forks of our banana bikes
and then, we could pedal like Hopper and Fonda,
with faded paisley bandannas around our heads.

Naturally, we had to try Nashawtuc hill.
My turn and the thrill of wind and speed
was overtaken about half way down
by an ever increasing wobble in that chopped fork.
Catastrophic failure spilled me
ass over teacups onto the pavement.

I remember lying stunned
then being swept up by the
Nelson’s blonde, tanned au pair
who ran with me to the house
murmuring something in Norwegian
that I am sure was comforting.

I was nine years old
had broken my nose and two teeth
but the memory that stands out
is that this was the first really pretty girl
to hold me to her breast.