Sun beating down on my back like
A cop on some lazy crack fiend.
Wheels of my disheveled bike
With their ever-turning love for
The skewed, summer warm sidewalk.
Tiger clouds leap across the sky,
Pouncing on any patch of clear blue
They deem worthy of their company.
If I wasn't flying down the
Street so fast, I'd think there was
A tornado ripping at my hair,
Rippling my clothes in a fury of
Crashing ten foot ocean waves.
Dandelions erupt from withering
Green lawns like acne on a
Stressed out teens face.
Just like that I'm avoiding
My life again, pretending it
Isn't really there. That all I am
Is this person who smiles up
At the sun from her father's old
Bike, who laughs as she rides
Through a sprinkler of somebody
Who set it up a little too close
To the sidewalk. Nothing more
Than an onlooker, mesmerized
By the savory aura of other
People's lives, as she peeks into
Windows from her bike.
Sooner or later I'll grow up,
Maybe then I won't know how
To appreciate a scalding summer
Day, when the only thing left
To do is nothing. Watch the grass
Grow, and joke with the weeds
Attacking the front lawn. I'll
Forget how to pretend that green
And sky blue are the only real
Colors, and everything else is
Just a knock-off.
I won't care to spend hours just
Watching the squirrels racing
Up and down rough tree trunks,
And robins building nests high
Up in the tree in the backyard.
Someday, I'll be desperate for love,
Flaunting myself for guys who don't
Really deserve me, and pretending
That they do. I'll giggle and smile at
Them, and write cute love notes in
A frilly pink pen, and dot the 'i's with
Loopy hearts. Maybe I'll even forget
How to hug myself when times get
Rough, and think I need some smooth
Talking boy to do it for me.
But until then, I'm happy to
Just ride my bike in the thick
Summer air, and try not to pay
Attention to the sweat gushing
From my forehead.
I have more now
Than I could ever look forward
To for the future. |
Submission Name: My bike or the boy down the road?
