The Ride

An engine starts,
That happy burble,
Gasoline, oil, a mechanical life,
Throb beneath a willing man.

Gray pavement moves quickly,
Under my feet,
A glance down shows speed,
Without Direction. 

Humming happily,
I look ahead,
Hills approach, with twists and turns,
Body and mind dissolving in the cold air.

Perhaps it’s not me, moving fast,
But rather, static and smiling,
As a conveyor belt of countryside,
Unfolds before me.

 Yes, that’s it now.
Gears move up, leaning and swooping,
More scenery advances swiftly,
I am a movie.

 Like Einstein’s mind,
It’s not a bluff,
But space and time,
Unite bike and man for The Ride.


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