Motorcycle Parts

The road man was talking tonight about the wheel. The big wheel. Not the one with the hand-brake and the hugest front tire capable of splitting when you run it into most any hard wall. The awesomely huge wheel you are on. The karma kind. The kind where it's all one big matryoshka doll and you are like an overstimulated hummingbird high on fructose jumping between incarnations and other times residing in the abstract halos hovering over forms. Sometimes your a rock. Sometimes you're the Rocky Mountains. Sometimes you end up in a lake. Sometimes the lake ends up flowing over you. Sometimes motorcycles end up riding on you. Sometimes you end up as part of a cycle. Sometimes you are the cycle. Anytime you are the nothing of the sort.