My bicycle heart
missing essential parts
skips curbs and pumps
to catch up.
Maybe I’m a fish
with limbs?
The brackish air
wafts inland.
Don’t ride with me
so often anymore.
I find this incline
hellish hard—
I grow soft
at the core.
Without end bayland hills
cooperate—an almost wild backdrop
on this lunch date.
We look cool
on a Google bike for two.
Avoid the street
where the egrets still mate.
The trees balance nests
openly and the birds
gargle calls
as they crest thin white feathers
in the noonlight.
It’s garish!
It’s a short-cut.
It’s a general mess of public
love-making overhead.
You lay the salt marsh transparency
over the corporate campus map—
it’s hi-tech,
the route back
easy enough.