…
it were the brakes, and
…
i’ve been
(one wants to want to think, so
on the 3-speed past the fountain
(whizzz whizzz whirrr whirrr
up the 7-storey mountain
(hup-two-three-four
i’ve seen (beware) the laughing
(kookaburra kookaburra
the red bicycles have brakes
(mine into the fountain like so many coins
or
off fell the blue brakes
(i shall open an empty wallet
yours are wheels sound and round and true
(you have children to bear
i, the other side, too harried to pedal
(i have a body to bury
roll endover … endover … end
(hurry, child, you must’n’t tarry
end end end
(not simply “a,” but yours
hence,
commence,
(on your marks, get set
this the decade of desire
this frontier of when
and before the byre, one shakes
a rattle for one’s infant
and steal one’s mettle like bars
from a bicycle built for two