to M.
I nearly died last night.
it was a non-event.
no, nothing happened, but something almost happened.
a dark night, a fast bike
a missed stopped sign
a white van a few paces faster
a fast bike a few paces slower
a broken man on the dark cold pavement
bleeding and dieing alone.
no consolation, with no hope.
I thought of you
and my cold poison words still dripping through your ears
I want them back.
to pull them out of your ear out of the air
back into the pages and into my head.
where they can die the death of a rotten seed
and I can die the death of a grateful man,
a broken body, a mangled bike, cold asphalt
and a beautiful fall night
2 comments:
Biking is a risky business. Defense is the only part of the game, but we must keep fighting. Cars are the enemy, yet we must show them every courtesy. Our only weapons are humility and deference. Keep on showing these folks that there is a better way. Some of them will see that Biking = Freedom.
Who's 'M'?
'cold poison words still dripping'and 'die the death of a rotten seed'- both beautiful word groupings. I definately felt this.
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