I picture you

I picture you
climbing on your motorcycle
wearing your huge black darth-vaderesque helmet
and roaring off into the night

Dawn would bring you
to the waves lapping at the beach
Atlantic Ocean
where you would remove the helmet and the clothes
and plunge as fresh as a newly born baby
into the water

You would tire
but a friendly dolphin
seeing the kindness in your eyes
would pick you up and carry you to a deserted island
and deposit you on its sand
where the sun and the wind would dry your skin

The fevered dreams would take you away
to the past
of the father who left
the mother who drank
and moving always moving in a rush to escape the bill collectors
until bars and chains and handcuffs kept you from escaping
but then
perhaps
a smile would cross your lips
and the past would melt away
as you remembered the love
once given to you
as a gift
with no expectations
in return.