This poem moves
a bicycle toward you
on a milky day mid-mo(u)rning
doves foraging for food
These lines decide to
walk the bike
toward you
across a city alight
with anticipation
heavy knowing
they may never make it:
your democracy
miles from mine
They may not cover them
before night
falls again
Can you see me wav(er)ing?
My longing
to know
your longing
has long spun
my wheels
& if you’re willing
when this reaches you
could I put your books
in the basket screwed
to my handlebars
so they steer me home?
