Bicycle

3.19.10

The clouds rumbled in the distance as I rode slowly on.

Rain met with the dirt often, and all around was gray and memories of damp summers.  The fields of weeds and joshua trees surrounded me.  Only asphalt kept me from the end.

The wheels beneath me rolled slowly on.

Verses of a four-piece cult, led by a Scorpius, lingered in my head.  The bats fluttering around instilled deeper into my mind the songs of the graveyard.  Pumpkins, gates, and trees filled my wanders, from the backyard to the pen.  Everyone was so pure back then, so original.  The posers where they belonged and the true ones standing tall.  Branches cut into skin, then blood beads.

The wheels squeaked faintly under me as I pedaled slowly on.

The hills, the mountains of rocks.  The shadows on the concrete, caught in the moonlight.  To walk was what I yearned.  Walking everywhere.  What more beauty could there be than this?  If only people didn't change.  If only time never changed.

I rode on slowly into the night.