Pearl White

Pearl White Liam Cuddy

As ruffled bark and mossy stones slip by Like driftwood in steady rapids, I find myself craving adventure, craving Experience. Heart snapping like a snare, Lungs Rhythmically collapse and expand.

Thoughts of everything, and nothing Burst into my head. I consider the magic of The World’s End. Vacationing in Hingham Was always a vibrant spark of orange on An otherwise powder blue summer.

Upscale twine coils my feet like boas. Pendulum arms cut through the thick Salty air. Massive stones play dead, Lending me their still carcasses to use As cheap thrills along slithering paths.

Spotted sunlight washes over my face, Bringing a color show meant for one. Blotted vision cloaks the ocean as the Clearing draws near. The cliffs grow more Foreboding with each mighty stride.

Cresting the peak, never proved Unsatisfactory. Winds push back knappy hair As eyes narrow and vision clears. A figure in the distance snaps a still frame of What I assume is a significant other.

He too, tries his best to retain beauty, When beauty is ever-present. Though there was immense beauty to be found Not on a face, or in her toothy grin. Nor looking miles Past the dimming sun, perched in limp hues of gold and sage.

But the pearl white steed, with two mighty wheels That sat humbly in the backdrop. Silver rims, and spokes Resembling petite skeletal fingers. Thick, sturdy handlebars, begging to be gripped. And the mirror, positioned to reflect on what had been conquered.

I found myself at a standstill, The battle is put on pause, as I admire Beauty of both new and old. The photographer Takes note of the uninvited guest. I blink, and look onward Before I too become stuck in time.

Not knowing what it meant then, The standstill lasted a moment or two, the battle Wasn’t over quite yet. But that snapshot of the photographer, The model, and the vehicle would remain with me for years to come. Pleasantly haunting days where education failed to entertain.

Thinking back, it stood for more than just A moment of beauty. The marbled pearl exterior Was just as clouded as the future I thought about In between breaths. So many times, did I think of Putting it all on pause, and revving down an open road.

Absolute freedom, though ever available, may always be a dream. And in that moment, the dream was a motorcycle, a camera, Human devotion, and an infinite amount of risk. The orb of fire sank, the drums stopped snapping, and eventually, Eventually I could breathe again.

Yet every now and then, I find myself slipping back to the end of the world, Hoping, just hoping for one simple, clear moment, To hear that snare drum snap again, And to know, that I am not alone in this pursuit.