Monday, March 12, 2012

poem



Learning to Ride


Now and then on warm afternoons,
wind variable, low on the
drop bars, cadence edited clean,

immersed in the fluid transfer
of force delivered through the
sweet spot where bone, flesh, alloy

and rubber mesh, senses trawling
a sea teeming with life and its
biding threats, I can still feel your

hand on the back of the seat, hear
your measured breath, feet slapping
the sidewalk in staggered steps, waiting

for the moment of letting go, you gasping,
planted, hands on knees while I recede,
pedaling furiously, beyond your grasp.    
I

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