“He has beautiful eyes,” she said
“They are light blue with dark blue around the edge. We picked him up outside of Salida”
The biker is not weary,
Though he could be so
His legs push down the miles
Hundreds more than some have ever traveled
He isn’t quite so far from home that he has begun the journey back
But he is a stranger in a strange land
Weaving his way across the lines we made, the borders we revere
Kansas, Colorado, Utah next
Climbing his way across the peaks and
Losing himself in the winding valleys
He is a friend to the rocks, and in love with the pavement
When he came to us in our smalltownlonely oasis,
He talked of Tolstoi, physics, God
All the thoughts that keep him company as he goes
In broken English he fixed some doubts we carried
About man and men
Then pedaled on away from us
He has beautiful eyes that marvel
At the sights along our curving highways
The mountains that bring him to his knees
And the euphoria of journeying
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