Fix Her

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” She screamed stopping only to catch her breath. Turning around she glares back at this cocky man who’s eyeballing her to see if he’s doing it right. If this is what she wanted? With a glance of “You better finish what you started” he takes every ounce of finesse he’s ever owned and starts to buff her out. It takes time to prime her at first. To repair the damage he’s done. To let her know that he knows that he’d been careless with her, that he was sorry he had broken her. With even swirls and just the right amount of pressure, he works for the love he will lose if she doesn’t think him worthy. He slows down and takes his time a little. Enjoying the rhythm, he thinks of how convenient she is. Always around for a quick ride… taking him for sunset picnics in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, turning him on with the slightest thought of her, day or night. He’s sweating now. Breathing deep, and inhaling her fumes. He starts to think she’s just about done, just about full circle. Despite the breeze, the garage is hot, and the apprehension grows into an A-bomb waiting to be a free mushroom cloud. He works harder and harder. The tension swells teetering on the edge of climax… He hears “Oh my God!” and is at first complimented thinking she would scream her delight for him! But he is instantly put back… a sucking wind that doesn’t feel quite right has followed this obtuse declaration and he knows there is a shadow at his back. He dreads what is going to greet him if he turns to face the bitter cold. Fear paralyzes him and he looks down at his love, knowing that they will have to part ways now. “You son-of-a-bitch!!!!” shrills in his eardrums. His girlfriend rounds in front of him with her chest poked out like a chicken with a nasty temper. Her head bobbing and jerking, back and forth, back and forth, her beak opening and closing, squawking her discontent with finding him like this. But he is done pretending and cannot ignore their secret love affair anymore. He shines the freshly painted blue fuel tank and climbs on. This beastly beauty between his legs is a prisoner no more. He revs her engine to life, sorry for the pain that has come between them. “Bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk!!!” He hears beneath the roar that vibrates his bones.  He promises her in his heart, to cherish her forever, through thick and thin, and to never let her get hurt again. Chicken claws try to slice his arms away from the handle bars, but he releases the clutch and is free. THEY are finally free. “That’s my bike MOTHER-FUCKER!” Floats behind him like music. He smiles to himself and plans a special trip in his mind for their first night back together. He speeds up letting the hot wind rush over his body, but is taken away with laughter, as he pictures an angry chicken chasing a motorcycle.