BICYCLE
Dodging danger
down the lanes of Ninth Avenue
I pedal with a pleasure
that’s hard to explain
to those who know
I am hardly intrepid.
I am frightened by the subway,
for gods sakes,
yet I’m somehow undaunted
by this traffic.
I have learned they are not all bad,
these roaring, rushing,
fast and furious four-wheeled
hurtling masses of metal.
They may resent my presence,
my fragile frame impeding their race
to the next red light,
but I have found to my amazement —
and my survival will affirm —
they’d really rather not hit me.
I don’t claim to have never
been close to disaster.
But the pleasure of getting
from here to there
in the open air
on my own two wheels —
my iPod piping music into my ears —
is so profound,
the experience so exhilarating,
the triumph of movement and music
over madness
so strong an affirmation of sanity
in my daily routine,
that fear is not a factor.
Or so I say.
Until one day they wheel me away.