A Jungian Motorcycle Reverie Crash Sonnet



It was like . . . in the Sixties man, you know

Just another end of the, like you know, day

We’re sitting around watching flowers grow

Our heads are stabilizing a static gray.

Someone sings a song about a pickle

And a motorcycle, asparagus

Inspired excitement for the fickle

Air heads and water brained aquarius.

Strumming their guitar on an earth bound plane.

None of us knows why, or what was the point

of singing about a crash, just insane

We daydreamed about space and a joint.

Though it made no sense, it just seemed right

A black Harley falls, silent in the night.