Tuesday, May 8, 2007

Riding past roadkill

Around the blind bend
the ripe smell has not yet turned
bitter at the end

3 comments:

  1. we know each other
    not by face but by our gear
    Trek frame: red hotshot

    he passes downhill
    as I stretch my legs. I know
    him: he's no climber

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  2. Riding down the beach
    Mother's Day, golden ringlets
    her mom behind her

    behind her mother
    her mother's "best friend," and then
    her sister, sixteen

    Mom's spitting image
    coulda picked up the best friend
    her sun-golden self

    ReplyDelete
  3. confetti--black, white
    wings scattered before rain gray
    tattered clouds, ash sky

    ReplyDelete