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http://www.artsceneiowa.com/artscene-DAVID-MANN.htmlHe woke up just a few minutes before true dawn. He took a quick shower in the dirty motel bath and dressed. He put on a pair of close fitting wrangler jeans and a pair of high leather slip-on boots. A wool plaid flannel came down over his chest and a buckskin jacket over that. He put his spare clothes back into the green army stuff bag and threw one strap over his shoulder. He walked out and tied the bag full of clothes and other goods to the sissy bar. He tied a dirty, ragged bandanna around his head. He put on a pair of dark aviator sunglasses and lit a handmade cigarette. He climbed aboard his old iron horse and started her up. The dual pipes roared and he reved it up to get her warmed up. The sun was gleeming over the motel rooves. He was always up early and laughed at what the sleeping others must think as they wake up to the sound of his bike at 6 AM. He shifted the Harley into first and let the clutch out slow. He had nowhere to be. He rode to the Motel Office and dropped the key off. Then again slowly made way to the lonely, personless road. He had left home only 2 weeks ago and yet, not once had he felt homesick. (to be continued)