According to—planetary motion,
one could suppose
slightly longer and widening
orbits of afternoon—in which
a bicycle rider—
windburned,
stouthearted—
travels—always
absorbing each and every
antecedent flung
across his spangled
patterned paths
with alacrity
and quickness—and a dim
sense of pride
which somehow lightens his burden
proportionally
with each uptick in the
daylight;
until
eventually, he's feeling so
slick that he slips—landing off-axis completely
with his erstwhile
procedure—arms and legs
frozen stiff—supine and
wide open
as if—
struggling
to embrace
such a huge risk.
