poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “bike”

five o’clock pass

shifting down to high speed
he pushes the pedals
down down down
feeling the tension inside
thighs and calves and IT bands
grimacing and racing
approaching the rail yard

the freight train slows to a crawl
the conductor waving
outside the window
the biker stretching out one hand
high into the air
thank you thank you thank you

august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Crimson and Me

I rode my new bike called Crimson
down the Southern route
of the Urban Trail.
I soon met a squad car inching toward me;
two of its wheels on the path
and two on the grass.

The officer flinched his finger and thumb
directly at me with a smile.
I just stared at him in passing,
confused like a dog
sorting out a strange animal
for the first time.

As I carried on I pondered
changing into my red cape
and saving the day
by single-handedly
apprehending the villain
who lurked somewhere in the brush.

july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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