Indian Lookout Country Club
1142 Batter Street
Pattersonville, NY 12137
Phone (518) 864-5659
Fax (518) 864-5917
Monday, November 20, 2017

Roadkill (An Epic Poem)

By Fish

 

From out of the night came a roaring blast

A chopped up Shovel, goin’ way too fast

One hand twistin’ hard on the throttle

The other holdin’ on to the neck of a bottle

 

He finished his whiskey, tossed the bottle of glass

Just missin’ the Troopers, hot on his ass

There were three, maybe four Crown Vics in pursuit

All cockin’ their weapons, gettin’ ready to shoot

 

The long stretch of straight-a-way was nearing it’s end

And the road up ahead took a wicked sharp bend

When he got to the curve, he laid it right down

His wheels hit the curb, and that brought him around

 

He popped up and gunned it, like a bat out of Hell

The Troopers didn’t have it nearly so well

All four of them slammed on their anti-lock brakes

And secretly wondered: Who’d go to their wakes?

 

The man on the bike with backward smile

Saw all the cars land in a crumpled up pile

He eased off on the gas and cruised towards the West

There were miles to go before he could rest

 

As the dawn broke behind him, he saw a sign up ahead

“Good Eats” “Bikers Welcome” was all that it said

Pulled into the parking lot in front of the place

Passed two dozen nice scoots till he found him a space

 

He stopped for a minute to look all around

Then he suddenly noticed, there wasn’t a sound

All those bikes would have meant a sizable crowd

And bikers are one bunch that tend to be loud

 

Another odd thing, (his eyes were still keen)

Was the level of dust there on every machine

Like they’d been there for months, or maybe a year

Not like the owners had just stopped for beer

 

With this puzzle still rattlin’ around in his brain

He walked into the diner as it started to rain

There were plenty of bikers (a real biker venue)

So he found a free table and looked for a menu


A waitress named “Ginny” came over to say

Would he like to see the Specials on the menu today?

He said, “Your pretty special, from where I’m sittin’”

Then she blushed like a schoolgirl, and purred like a kitten,

 

“We don’t get many smooth talkin’ gentlemen here

While you look at the menu, can I get you a beer?”

The man nodded and winked and said: “A beer….in a glass”

Then he watched her walk off, admirin’ her ass

 

While she was gone the man looked all around

Despite all the people, there still wasn’t a sound

Nursin’ their drinks were hard men in black leather,

And the chicks that were with them, lookin’ dark as the weather

 

‘Cause the weather outside went from just heavy rain

To blowin’ and howlin’ like a hurricane

“Well, I won’t have to wash my bike again soon,”

Chuckled the man as he watched the monsoon

 

He turned to a biker nearby and he said,

“That’s a hellavuh storm, that’ll sure wake the dead!”

The biker gave him a long, hard, cold leer

And said, “You need to get right the fuck outta here”

 

The man jumped to his feet with a grin

And said, “OK Buddy, bring it on, I’m in!”

But the biker just knocked back a slug from his drink

“Those weren’t fightin’ words. At least, not like you think”

 

The man stood still with his fists in the air

While the rest of the joint, looked away…didn’t care

So he sat back and waited, he stared at the wall

He was startin’ to not like this place, not at all

 

When the waitress finally showed up with his beer

He drank it straight down, left a twenty. Said, “Here

Keep the change, I’m leavin’. This joint is too slow.”

He walked to the door, “I got places to go”

 

But the door wouldn’t open, kinda like it was stuck.

He pulled and he yanked, then he turned and said, “Fuck!”

“Who’s the dead man that that tried to lock me in here?”

As he looked ‘round the room, anger gave way to fear.


As if by a signal, the bikers rose to full height.

One said, “Dead man is the first thing you finally got right.”

Then Ginny came back and took the man by the arm

Said, “Don’t be afraid, they don’t mean you no harm.”

 

“It’s just you don’t know the rules, ‘cause you’re new

I’ll explain it as simple as I know how to do

Remember the cops and that curve from last night?”

“How the hell’d she know that?” He thought, “This just ain’t right”

 

“Well,” she continued, “you didn’t survive

In fact, as of last night, you’re no longer alive

And this is where dead bikers go when the die

So sit back and relax, honey, I wouldn’t lie”

 

So he sat and he ordered himself a fresh brew

And carefully considered the life that he knew

Here he would stay, though he never could tell

Whether he was in Heaven or he was in Hell

 

If you find yourself tired, your eyes turnin’ red

And you see a sign “Bikers Welcome, Good Eats” up ahead

Don’t stop, don’t look, ‘cause as sure as you do

There’ll be dust for all time on your scooter too

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