“Let’s ride,” the road captain called out. My husband and I threw on our helmets, and jumped on our Harley Ultra touring bike. When the HOG moved, you’d better move quickly or get left behind. I held on tight as Frank upshifted through his gears to keep up with the other riders. Continue reading
old oil stays old oil jewels stay jewels i face away from a city i cannot Continue reading
during late nights, speaking
to my cat, swearing he
understands me, when
she was alive, my great
grandmother called my
father a good for nothing
nigga, not knowing what
he would suffer through Continue reading
Blacktop Passages 