The Grey Line
PB&J and ice-cold water
Chatting, laughing, and pedaling ensue
Early on when the sun is high
Optimism reigns supreme and true
Stars and Bars in a bank that’s now a bar
It’s never too early for that brown liquid sin
There isn’t much going on with these elderly two
A quick frog sketch and a flash of skin
We follow the grey line of dust
Through the tunnel of muggy green
The soul-sucking heat envelopes all
Including our two-wheeled machines
Hiding from the sun’s evil rays
Only to later beg for it to come back
Our tires find washed-out ruts and sand
Possums and webs abound in the black
More frequent the intermittent lights become
I long to lie down and sleep
Only a few more dark miles to go
Gas station food, at least it’s cheap
Morning light brings with it muscles still sore
Pancakes, B’s & G’s, bacon, and hash browns
Opening the first brewhouse in sight
Sampling outweighs riding in this sleepy German town
Almost nothing stays open long enough here
So we climb a hill twice, to swig some wine
Tiger and other strangers are eager to chat
“Enjoy the f*ck out of Hermann,” we did, it was divine
Brandon Teel
Aug 2008
