to Vasily Bliznetsov without whose help
"Big Wheel Keep On Turnin'",...
the book,... the Art Poems,... and the web site
would never have seen the light of day.
These are the flowers in my Bouquet.
May their warm bright colors
and subtle fragrance please You.
I quit my job and shed my suit for jeans,
a back pack and some travelers' cheques.
With passport secure, I soared across
an Iceland Moon, back to the Old World.
Seeking the Motherload. Where it all began.
First stop, Manchester, England, then North.
Fine-whiskered, ruddy-cheeked, dour-dimpled
Sandy Milne was rumbling down the Motorway.
He picked me up, hitching south of Inverness,
and led me on a merry tour of country pubs.
Sandy cursed ice cubes and ridiculed cold beer.
" No way to drink, Mate. Americans are queer! "
With smiles on our face, the thrill of a Chase,
with derelict hearts, and hair out of place ...
We felt our way, that day, along Loch Ness.
Along the snaking water's edge. I guess.
Toward dusk, we stared at an ice-blue cloud.
Then Sandy remarked: " Bugger! " And he was gone.