a Scented Muse

{Thursday, 12 July, 12}   The man…

…stared longingly at the Harley parked vertical to the sidewalk.  Nothing stood out about him.  He, as most business men, was undistinguishable from any other you would see standing around in any big city.  The look upon his face said it all.  An unfulfilled dream lurked somewhere within the depth of his spirit ~ as one often does within each of us.

 I wondered what he longed for.  Was it to conquer the desert dirt bike race or to simply don his suit for a pair of chaps, ride the wild highway as the flap of his bandana wrestled with the wind?  Could it be that it was only a reminder from a time when he was free; unburdened from the corporate noose society calls fashion~ the “neck tie” ~ impeding his every breath?  Whatever it was, his face mirrored the constrictions of his current life.

 The moment passed.  Afraid to ponder where he had lost his passion for life, he allowed the numbness to settle in ~ squishing the thought as quickly as he had done so often to his fellow board room opponents.  Gathering himself, he brushed his sleeve, straightened his tie and turned to walk back through the office building doors.  Without so much as a glance back at the bike, I saw his hand quiver, ever so slightly, as he reached for the door handle.  Was the tremble from his forgotten self making a weak attempt to shake him back to life?  It makes one wonder.  Do you?


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