Kid Confidence
When I was little
I was often
lulled to sleep
on my father’s
Harley Davidsons
in the side car
side-by-side
with my sister
or clutched tightly
to his belt loops,
as if they were
made of steel
and all I needed
to be safe,
while Lisa,
two years younger,
was wedged between
his body
and the gas tank.
Something about
the vibration and
the rhythmic,
noisy hum
of the motor
comforted
and relaxed me
into a deep peaceful sleep.
In those days
I didn’t know
enough to be scared.
Scared of
falling off the back,
tipping over,
or worse,
I just held on
and knew
I would be okay.
Raised on one
motorcycle or another,
I never realized
how scared
I should have been.
I realize now
that my helmet,
child size
sparkling red
and decorated
with my nickname,
Pee Wee,
in bright yellow letters,
would not have
cushioned
a fall
to the pavement
or gravel that
raced off behind
those powerful machines
as we sped towards
our next destination.