The Boys Go For A Ride
From The Inner History Of The Outer Half
Of The Twentieth Century

The world blurred, spurning to liquid under our wheels
We flew
And never left the earth!
“You can’t have it your way”
They said
“At least not now…
Perhaps after a lifetime of work and pain
And the sacrifice of every feeling you could
Ever call your own…maybe

Well maybe not.
Hammer down, crank throttle back
Blasting limits of the day to bits of shimmering night!

Damned hound foot!
Always itching…
Cursed blood like to burst past the damning veins!

In Texas all roads run to the morning,
Softly die, then resurrect to the fire of the day
Sizzle like stones dropping into pools of night
Once more to run to dawn
To softly die again…

We didn’t care,
We was hell-bent for anywhere
Pining naively for the touch of the inviolate horizon
Beauty incarnate, daughter of the passion
Of earth and sky

The quicker we pressed for her
The faster from us she would fly

Never got that near
Not like we did not try.


Author: Edgardo

Born in Houston, Texas and moved to Raymondvile, Texas in 1969. Family bought a radio station and helped with the family business until it was sold in 1997. Since then started an agency and mostly writes about experiences in Deep South Texas. Writers of the Rio Grande founder, editor and contributing author.


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