Bicycle Glory

The smell of rubber

even now



shaped into bicycle tires

getting that new bike

riding on seat springs and sunlight

skirting a pathway

to the sun

legs turning to jelly

pumping pedals

flying down Pine Street

and Jr. High too

summer yawning


like a billion burnished promises

gliding along the edge of town

passing Laura Edem’s house

the scorn on her face

bouncing off the sheen

of my hair

flying out unbound

behind me

every street and pathway

the pattern

of that town

found in crevices of memory

shards of an existence

as the everlasting days of summer

fold up neatly

like pressed pansies now

in a worn leather book

View original post

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s