Volume 3, Number 9
September, 1998
Bike Ride Home in Evening
by S. Ringel
Back at the bike
mosquitoes bite and
I push up the path
heart pounding
whining bugs pursuing me 'till I
reach the road
feet in pedals pack on back
helmet firmly seated
I spin on up towards home
when the road tops the hill
a fat yellow fool moon
hangs sleepily
above the South Ridge there
then I fly down the long bumpy dusty hill
thumping and banging and swooping
bugs patter against my grin
that heathen's having fun
Speed bumps lie sultry in the half light
as I fly by
gravel crunching
beneath soft winds caress yes yes
on a smooth stretch I pickup speed
the wind begins to roar past helmet straps
with a surge and a jerk
I loft the front wheel up
onto the top of a water bar
the ride is smooth as silk
and on the next I get a little jump
a leap into the air
but it's darker going through the woods
I slow to ride more warily
Tires hiss on the drive packed dirt
"on your left" my quiet cry
and "coming through"
as I blow by
pedestrians
then power up
the last short hill
happy to find as usual
my truck is where I left it
9 p.m.