Thoughts of a Motorbike

You ride me after school chasing big,

bloodthirsty, bulls

I feel sad as a dead flower petal in the
wind when you let me run out of fuel
I feel happy as New Year’s Eve when you
let me go so fast that you can’t see me go

past

I would like to change my old wrinkly seat
for a new smooth one with a bit of flair
I would like to tell my owner to never get
sick of me because I go anywhere
I always like to go over a jump because it
gives me tingle in my black, round, rump.