I can't stop mixing feelings with volcano thoughts
and sometimes you need to vomit before you get cuisine.
Night ride I
down tree vaulted asphalt
Martin Luther King Jr Drive.
Headlights flash and blur in my mini rear-view
cars passing too close,
but my aluminum tubes, carbon-reinforced fork, and steely resolve
carry me as I ride on,
the glow of city lights and the LED sprinkled city skyline
rising to the South ahead of me and to the left,
wheels spinning some sixty rpms
on this river side ride
of quiet empty miles:
moon casts reflections on the rain flecked street;
forest hangs overhead;
and to my left mixed among the damp thirst for hunger of foliage
upon the Schuylkill river's riparian zone
wild geese and goslings
and goose droppings brown black and white,
piled high on and along the grass and pathway.
And I who choose the road avoid
mutilated rotting geese carcasses deeply genuflecting on the bike route.