Follow the Pavement Black

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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

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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.

A Dip in the Pool

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a hot blanket
irremovable
snatches the relief away,
trapping the summer sun
against my skin
(against my soul)
dragging me down
into the soil of
my deepest doubts

and no matter how many
times i tear at its seams
their strained cries,
their complaints,
even their smiles
can’t keep me cool
until i can find a way
to cut it open, throw it
to the ground,
and take a dip in the pool.

Silent Guidance

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it is not for this view of farms
with old wooden barns
in the early mist of morning
that i rise early and ride
(though it could be)

it is not for the excitement
of a road I’ve never traveled
its twists and turns leading me
into a maze of forests and fields
(though it could be)

it is not for the muscles in
my legs that have tightened
into circular mounds of strength,
carrying me endlessly without pain
(though it could be)

it is for them, three souls lined up
to lead a life that they will choose,
and in my silent guidance they will see
that there are many roads, many paths,
that will lead each of them to happiness.

Watching from a Window

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Watching from a window
Any voyeur can see your life
(the emanating love that
Masks the secretive sadness)

But i am not a voyeur, only a lonely
Lost soul (aren’t we all?) and
I can see it hidden behind this
Picture-window view (between the lines)

Because i have been inside your soul
(though currently an outcast) and still recall
The time when you and I were innocent schoolgirls,
Watching from a window how we pictured the world.

Lunch Will Wait

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with the keys trapped inside
and us trapped here,
we have a moment to dwell
or look out at the view of rolling hills,
a distant silo,
and listen to the variety of birdsongs
in the for-once-not-too-hot day.

Lunch will wait, as will we,
and move on with our day
in the same languid way
as natives of Tennessee.

Center Stage

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or, Kentucky Sun

Spring rains leveled the grass,
lifted up the trees, and blinded our way home.
Without the familiar echo
of thunder to mar the storm,
our pedals splashed the outpouring
of warm water into every pore.

Soaked as rats upon arrival,
we stood four in a row on the porch,
mesmerized by the suddenness
of the water that washed away
the intolerable heat that had
followed us all around town
for hours, days, weeks.

By the time we’d changed clothes,
the sun returned to center stage,
upstaging the clouds’ attempt
to rule this afternoon with the
persistence of a new Hollywood legend,
and once again warm water (sweat?)
poured out from every pore.

Here

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here
where the trees mask the sun
here
where the deer darts across
here
where the pavement ends
here
where i have my heart.

i can’t take an adequate photo
so i won’t attempt to
but as my best friend
rests her tires on the red dirt
(am i in my native land,
surrounded by air so thick
with moisture that it pops
out of my pores?)
i know that for today,
this moment,
this ride,
no matter how many miles
lie between
here
and
there
i will always have
you here with me.

Clucking Their Way Out

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they may appear to be innocent:
barns white as new fallen snow,
idyllic as Mother Nature on
this absent-of-traffic meandering road.

in the early morning light, you
won’t hear the muffled sounds of death
clucking their way out of the
forever-closed doors and windows.

yet for half a mile or more, a circle
of stench radiates into the dewy dawn,
asking only that you take this memory
with you to the chicken aisle of the market.