There were never any pictures...
What sounds like a statement is actually an excuse.
For trying to bring out of a faded memory, some glimmers of a past that will never shine. The only place this past will ever shine is within two beating organs in two separate bodies.
So, forgive me.
These are the memoirs.
Pedaling. Pedaling. Pedaling. Heart pinches at the sight of him. Pedaling, rearing up together, turn down a side street an onto the bike trail.
I can feel the cans of beer in my backpack rest comfortably on my lower back. I think to myself that they're slowly getting warm with my body heat. I'm learning to go over bumps, after all, I do have a mountain bike. I've always been so scared to ride up a curb or over a rock. Everytime it's a mystery to me that it is possible.
Sand.....when you hit sand, it's all over. Unless you're Jim of course, and you put it into the easiest gear and look really goofy trying to pedal through it, doing wheelies, kicking the sand up. I can't compete.
It's a full moon, and the moon is broken up and stretched out over the river tonight. The geese are flying overhead as we pull up and lay our bikes down together so they can cuddle. I plop my bottom in the sand and pull out an egg & a beer for both of us. We light up and start drinking. Staring at the river & the moon and the night.
After a little bit of this and a little bit of that. This controlled man by my side takes his clothes off and gets in the river. I follow suit. In the moonlight, confronting my fear of dark water in the flesh. He comes from the island in the middle and takes both of my hands. He walks me to the island and there, we sit, I guess we were contemplating......whatever we contemplate when we sit in silence together. Only this time we were naked in the river under the moon with our clothes and our bikes on the shore.
For trying to bring out of a faded memory, some glimmers of a past that will never shine. The only place this past will ever shine is within two beating organs in two separate bodies.
So, forgive me.
These are the memoirs.
Pedaling. Pedaling. Pedaling. Heart pinches at the sight of him. Pedaling, rearing up together, turn down a side street an onto the bike trail.
I can feel the cans of beer in my backpack rest comfortably on my lower back. I think to myself that they're slowly getting warm with my body heat. I'm learning to go over bumps, after all, I do have a mountain bike. I've always been so scared to ride up a curb or over a rock. Everytime it's a mystery to me that it is possible.
Sand.....when you hit sand, it's all over. Unless you're Jim of course, and you put it into the easiest gear and look really goofy trying to pedal through it, doing wheelies, kicking the sand up. I can't compete.
It's a full moon, and the moon is broken up and stretched out over the river tonight. The geese are flying overhead as we pull up and lay our bikes down together so they can cuddle. I plop my bottom in the sand and pull out an egg & a beer for both of us. We light up and start drinking. Staring at the river & the moon and the night.
After a little bit of this and a little bit of that. This controlled man by my side takes his clothes off and gets in the river. I follow suit. In the moonlight, confronting my fear of dark water in the flesh. He comes from the island in the middle and takes both of my hands. He walks me to the island and there, we sit, I guess we were contemplating......whatever we contemplate when we sit in silence together. Only this time we were naked in the river under the moon with our clothes and our bikes on the shore.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home