She flew. Though not on wings. Crouched astride a gleaming machine, she flew with gasoline. Flew between lumbering bubbles of steel. Just so many birdcages. And one hawk soaring among them. They meandered to destinations unknown. While she flew, destination undetermined. Destination unimportant. Photo by KEVIN CLYDE BERBANO on Unsplash She flew, and she screamed. She howled into the night. A fierce sound of primal anguish. Impaled with emotion. A beast of passion and turmoil, barely contained.