Bike Ride

The back of Kirk’s arms – our distance margin –

familiar streets freer, entire, concrete –

soothing red reflectors – a paper thin

equilibrium of helmet, legs, and high seat

that puts the ground outside foot’s reach: all this

I somewhat see, hand poised over the break.

With each cycle ground is gained. Summer – I miss

pedaling across it, unconsciously nearing the ache

of first red leaves we felt last week in Maine –

little did I know I was riding towards

a new friend, Clara, or that long clear rain

and ensuing tiny toad, or German words

learned since then. “Mit” will take the dative “mir”,

such whole other rides… deliciously

fifth gear.

- Jasmine Lin, September 2013