My Dad was an English Professor and often did editing on my work as I developed it. He was able, generally, to read my work as he did many, many, many college students, with a sense of arms-length detachment, an editorial eye and red pen and could be constructively brutal about my writing.

He pulled no punches if he didn't like it, which I really appreciated and miss a lot! He also carefully doled out praise (usually with a little caveat) but I always knew he was in my corner, just wanting me to put out the very best work I was capable of. It was amazing to me to see my own dad become all business about my work, putting aside our relationship with objectivity.

All this to say my dad LOVED this poem. He told me it was his favorite poem of ALL of the poems I had written and he had reviewed at the time, which exceeded five hundred. SO, I have always remembered most the conversation we had about The BIG Bad Motorcycle Man that I based this poem on. I remember the way he laughed, the way we laughed. As a Dad, I know the only thing I want more than my own success is to watch my son's successes. I want more for them than I do for myself and my dad felt the very same way.

THIS POEM WAS WRITTEN WHILE WATCHING SOME GENTLEMEN AT MY LOCAL STARBUCKS, WHO - LIKE ME, RIDE HARLEY MOTORCYCLES.

PLEASE CLICK ON THE POEM BELOW TO BLOW IT UP ENOUGH TO READ IT. I HAVEN'T YET FIGURED OUT HOW TO SAVE THE FILE FROM THE MANUSCRIPT LARGE ENOUGH...

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