health

Thinking

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

i may not see it through their eyes
or feel it through their legs
but the mountain lures me
and i can already sense the wind at my back
hear the spinning rubber on pavement
the thin air tightening in my lungs
and the sweet smell of pine calling me home.

it may seem crazy (and it always is with me)
but i will chase that train
climb that mountain
win that race
if only for my legs
my eyes
my heart.

with a pedal of determination
i will be just like the little blue engine
of my youth,
thinking my way to the top
thinking
thinking
thinking
all. the. way. down
to where everything tastes
better on the other side of the mountain.

Victory

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

there will never be enough
hours in the day
or minutes within the hours
or muscles within my legs
to accomplish what I need.

instead, I ought to sit back,
sip on the sweet nectar of my microbrew,
enjoy watching the kids burn calories,
and watch the sun settle itself
amidst the purple mountain majesties.

but even with too-short days and
too-sore muscles, and
as sweet as a beer may be,
it will never be as sweet
as the day I claim my victory.

Word Play

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

with a good dose of whines
(and a serious lack of wine)
we are headed for the top
(there’s a lake resting atop)

three versions of complaints
(parents no longer compliant)
we have reached the waterfall
(soon we’ll see their water fall)

the log is begging to be climbed upon
(the legs are begging to be peed upon)
they topple into a mesh of moss
(the log it tumbles right across)

i should suppress my loud laughter
(I can’t help but laugh at her)
no more than a scratch they’re disturbed
(our hike is no longer perturbed)

Shiny New Conscience

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

at his stall he holds
eggs picked from the coop this morning
(various sizes and colors)
piles of phallic squashes
in shades of yellow and green,
peppers as shiny as red wagons,
new potatoes ripe and ready,
green onions that might wilt
by midday (we’d better eat them),
tomatoes ready for today’s sauce,
tomatoes ready for next week’s canning,
glistening green chiles to spice up our quiche,
the makings of a meal
that will bring us all seven together
for $17, a downhill ride home,
and a shiny new conscience.

With This Pedal

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

with this pedal I thee wed
a life that’s mine (inside my head)
to remember all that is momentous
and forget everything circuitous

with this pedal I will fly
into my life, by and by
taking with me all that’s past
leaving behind what I’ve surpassed

with this pedal I am me
more than elsewhere I could be
to speak my mind and ache my soul
to take the parts and make them whole

with this pedal I thee wed
a life that’s mine (inside my head)
to remember all that brought me here
to forget all that should disappear.

Home at Last

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

for a thousand miles
we see the reach of
the Mighty Mississippi,
the river we bought
for pennies on the dollar,
the river of dreams
(sometimes nightmares),
the river that feeds us all
and doesn’t feed us.

after cornfield gives way
to soybean field and
amber waves of wheat,
all i can think about are the bison
who ate and fertilized
this prairie, feeding
ten thousand generations
and yet
we destroy it
with unnecessary crops
feeding cattle that could
(and would) do the same as the bison.

as night gives in to day
we cross the border
and see cows in pasture
(home at last)
a truck with a Kentucky plate
(home at last)
and hope that one day
we will release
the native grasses
and allow the prairie
to be home at last.

Statistics

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

temperature: 87
sunset: 8:30
ETA: 8:52
humidity: 70
miles: 5.2
mosquitoes: 1.1 million
times down the slide: 100
gulps of Gatorade: 50
cars waiting to pass: 10
songs on the iPod: 40
streetlights lighting up: 11
runners speeding past: 2
girls on a bike: 4
love: 100%

Follow the Pavement Black

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

after five and a half years of bodily sacrifice
i have taken a bite out of a different slice
strange it is to follow the pavement black
but this is the only way to get my body back

it’s not the baby belly (though it may seem)
but about my dignity, my self esteem
for them i gave scarred skin, life, milk
and now the road beckons with its silk

i follow it wherever my legs desire
as in high school when i was on fire
it saves me just as much as it did then
reminding me how to be myself again.

Just What I Didn’t Expect

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

just when I’m about to turn
on a ride that’s a bit too long
(the sun is mocking me),
I catch a glimpse of a black shadow
in my newly-purchased rearview mirror.

at an easy lope, he follows me like a horse,
black and white fur as thick as
wool on a sheep’s back, tongue
dangling out the side of his mouth
with a wanton lust for liquid.

I pedal faster, but have never seen
a dog keep my 15 mph pace, and
the adrenaline seeps out with my sweat.
But I can’t just ride into the night,
so I slam on the brakes at the crest of a hill.

In a moment, he bounds over the top,
blue eyes as beautiful as the baby’s, he’s
a Husky in Kentucky, poor thing. I call to
him like he’s mine and he obediently
sits beside the bike for a master-pet rub.

I gulp down my Gatorade, make my turn,
and he follows me for a good long mile,
just as a sled dog should, just what I didn’t
expect, reminding me once again that this place
(I should hate) is just what I didn’t expect.

Fit for Life

/ lovizmytrio / 6 Comments

ninety degrees, heading into the sun,
hour three of a dogged day’s drive.
my sweat gives in to my need for
some cool caffeine, even if it means
stopping at the food devil’s door.

i stand in line behind their typical customer:
400 pounds, greasy white hair,
pack of Marlboros tucked into its home
in his back pocket, he orders his
super-sized meal and waddles around
while the too-thin cashier rings it up.

i catch a glimpse (all it takes)
of his 4X gray T-shirt that
bubbles over his belly
like an ashy house dress.
“Fit for Life: Jesus Christ’s Gym.”

when i discover the latte machine is broken,
the irony leads me across the street where
i put $2.46 down on the gas station counter
for a canned Starbucks, the Indian brothers
taking my money, their heavy accents reminding me
of home, home, home.