Derrière

15/1/19

I'm finding it harder to buy a bike than a goat here.

I remember when and where
I began my lifelong love affair
with two pedals, a handlebar,
and rubber tyres filled with air.
I saw it first from afar.

Saturday morning lying on a heap
of twisted metal, full of creep,
fated for recycling soon.
What caught my eye was the deep
red that made me swoon.

Rainbow beads in the spokes
would disinterest other folks,
but unique has always been my voice.
Shopping at the dump cause we were broke,
limited inventory gave no choice.

Mounted my steed on that field,
styrofoam helmet as my sheild,
staring down unbridled fear.
Started pedaling, I wouldn't yield!
Problem was I couldn't steer.

Through the years my steed changed form,
gears and shifters not always the norm,
summer or winter did not matter.
Great Dane nights forever warm,
University Ave slush back splatter.

I pine for two Namibian wheels
for the road is harsh on these heels,
I miss the wind in my hair.
Someday soon I'll again feel
a bike seat under my derrière.