Bicycle Poetry: Almost a Salty Popsicle

the steep grade
of the curvy road
that trails off
into the horizon
has tired my legs
and mentally
worn me out

pulls me
to the edge
of the shoulder

overtakes my body

into the grass
close my eyes
let nature reclaim
this pile of exhaustion

I stare into the sun
and murmur,
“little tick, little tick,
my blood is healthy
and thick
enjoy, enjoy
grow vigorous
and quick

“big deer,
don’t poke me
with your antlers
but gently lick
my armpits
they are mercury free
I want to be
your salty popsicle

“scary mountain lion,
I apologize
my body is lean
and somewhat trim
didn’t go to the McDonald’s
feed lot
graze in the grocery
snack and soda aisle
before setting out
on this trip”

A yellow flower catches my eye.

It has grown
the pavement,
dodging cars,
not being eaten
by critters.

A flower
as miraculous
as a man walking on water.

Miracle flowers and miracle men
have the same effect
on the observer.
I find strength
to ask a passing
woman on a bicycle
for help.
I tell her I want to be strong
like the flower.

She happens to be a gardener.

Water with lemon
hits my lips
like stinging nettle tea
to a droopy plant.

A peanut butter jelly sandwich
gives me energy
like worm poop to a turnip.

My legs no longer feel wilted.

I get up off the ground.
She looks me up and down,
admiring her horticultural work.
She says,
“Your bright yellow vest
and white body remind me of a daisy.
From now on, your bicycling name
will be Daisy Spectacular.
I now
beseech you to
ride, ride,
grow towards the sun.”

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