About a Painting: "The Ride"

home is far away for my two feet

the walk yields time in step

imagination runs wild and quiet

and then she comes

special delivery

a bitter substitute

but one never

a ten speed with room for one

impossibly tiny wheels negotiate a balance

I am perched on the handle bars

petrified

down the steep hill we go

down down down

building momentum

wheels spinning wiggling beneath me

I close my eyes

I hear the wind

I am flying

this is my youth

this is me free.