December 21, 2012
It's been a painful day. The debate over gun control on Facebook gets heated and hurtful. I felt compelled to "unfriend" a few close friends because of their outrageous opinions on mass murder and the NRA. It's a very touchy subject and I want to write something about it... but right now I'm too close to the subject. So, you, my faithful reader, will have to settle for another bicycle poem. I write about my bike a lot. Maybe the closest friend I have.
Bicycle Dream
I was
dreaming bicycle wheels the thick,
black kind
that gobble down the gravel in
the alleyways
as they lumber along,
go barreling along
searching for a bit
of
streetlight, a slice of moonshine to brighten
up a rather dull
graveyard night.
I dreamed of red
Corvettes and white Mustangs
chasing us,
my bike and me, the two of us
swerving
around the pot holed streets, dodging
the sticks and
stones and shattered beer bottles
that jump out
from the shadows... left over, no doubt,
from an OU Game
Day. Yes, my dreams are similar
to my waking
life... filled with hazards I’ll never tame.
But one tries
with eyes open or shut
to make the
best of what dreams may
happily throw
their way. We take that
which we can
and give what we must
to appease
those ancient, thoughtless
gods of human propulsion.
rrw 11-o2-12
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