The jacket.

A fever dream of leather and shearling. Golden curls, rawhide scars. Wild. Untamed. A contradiction. Perfect.

Snow. Endless. Mountains like gods. Nights that swallow you whole. I’ve been everywhere. Japan, Montana, Utah. No straight lines. Just chaos.

Now fire. Silence, loud and heavy. The jacket’s there, half-formed. Sheepskin alive, fighting the dream. Leather screaming its story. My mind—wired, feral. The jacket—it’s happening. No plan. Just madness.

Montana cold. -2. The Panhead sits. I kick. Over and over. Lost. Drifting. The jacket’s in my head. The roads, the scars, the chaos. Time collapses.

The bike howls to life. She’s there, eyes like fire. No words. She climbs on. Legs lock. Heat against leather. And we’re gone.

Through ice and stars. The jacket—creases, scars, a life on fire. A dream that won’t quit.

- josh