THE CYCLIST

I see him
for a second
he races past
silent
or so it seems behind my window
streamlined
narrow frame
bars bent low
he folds over the bike
as if coaxing in its ear
more speed
unsmiling resolute
I see in the flash of his back
satisfaction

From handlebars like wings
streamers snatch the breeze
no gears no brakes
no helmet
no shoes
but a basket and
a bell by my thumb
I kick up my legs
lean back
fly down the hill

That cyclist needs a baseball card
clipped to a spoke
with a clothespin
to add some noise and joy to
satisfaction

2 thoughts on “THE CYCLIST

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