Aaron's Beard

© 2001, Carl Thomas Gladstone

Bearded and belted in blue jeans and leather,
Aaron tears across the desert scene.
The dusty highway shoulders
salute this one-man stampede.

From the dirt tinted black of his boots,
up the day faded fringe on his chaps,
to the gray beard beneath his bandana wrapped head,

He rides like a rocket, like the road will never end.
He rides like a rodeo, a little rough around the edge.
While the hula-girl dances, Aaron rides for us all.

Steer horns on his handlebars point
toward the only direction he knows.
Forward, past state lines, forward
through stop signs and speed traps and towns.

Along the way he picks up riders
from Acolita and Clear Creek,
riding together toward a sun-baked horizon

They ride like rockets, like the road will never end.
They ride like a rodeo, a little rough around the edge.
While the hula-girl dances, Aaron rides with them all.

Sun pours over his body like oil

Baptized on the road,
these riders have driven through spit shined road blocks,
and barricades, and dusted off detours
calling for you to…

Ride like a rocket, like the road will never end.
Come ride like a rodeo, a little rough around the edge.
While the hula-girl dances, Aaron rides with us all.