for maddened prophets

i like my own company me, i like time on my own, you are never more on your own than when you are riding a motorcycle, i headed out late afternoon, the ever present storm clouds threatening a right royal drenching, waterproof's are for wimps, it's hot and humid and stormy and if you get wet, well, it's better being wet and warm than wet and cold, open face lid then, as i head out north the roads are wet, traffic is light, the sky's darken as the cloud level and temperature drop's, the cattle are lying down and the bird's stop singing, it's coming, you can feel it in the air, a big storm, i can hear it rumbling in the distance, that low, steady noise, flashes of lightning spark across the horizon, i stop to wipe my glasses, the spray off the roads, dead flies and general road filth  combined with my salty tear's make vision forward's difficult, i spit on my glasses to clean them and look at my bike, what was i thinking of? the seat need's pulling in four inches forwards, as i ride home i feel backward's, yep, i can lose four inches easily by moving the seat forward, that's on the list of job's to do then and i want to run a number board with a headlight instead of the poxy bates copy, i set off and the storm hit's with a vengeance, that old saying? 'cat's and dog's?' i'm soaked within second's, i'm even having trouble breathing the storm is that intense, would i have it any other way? let me think about it..........nah, all i can think about is moving that fucking seat forward's......