Free-verse Friday

If you don’t like reading poetry in a blog post, don’t be mad at me. Blame this guy.

So here’s my poetic contribution to the blogosphere (forgive me if I’ve posted this before):

Out There

“It’s very easy to disappear into your own personal closet and disappear from society. I know that feeling acutely.” –Davis Phinney

A chaotic vacation from one-handed
tunafish-sandwich-making parenthood
begins as I drop my socks in the rocks
next to my wheel, slip my steel-cleats
on bare feet, and reach for aero bar ends

My transition complete,
I slice the ascent from the valley floor,
in a fit of caged windmill break-dancing,
transferred through pedals to pavement
in elliptical rhythm

I drop one then two then three then four.
My bladed spokes, carving gently,
whirring smoothly on rolling
pavement wheel-ruts, dulling senses,
swallowing voices, redistributing emotion.

My soundtrack is breath
I wax kinetic, goading passersby
to tack the gusts with me
like hot razorblades through butter.
But instead, I’m alone on the roads.

For one brief antisocial moment,
diametric from family, friends, and foes
I am Teflon, untouchable, unfelt—
undetected by empathy or sweat;
No one shares my velocity.

On the cusp of vanishing,
with my arrogance strewn
across the road, my depths purged
in cathartic athleticism,
I turn my cold shoulders toward home,

Knowing that after a dip in the pool,
there’s a tunafish sandwich, some
warm Gatorade, and a two-year-old waiting
to hear what it’s like “out there”—
my victorious disappearance.


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