if only these were clouds
not fucking with my haiku syllable count
but actually pouring down rain instead of smoke
if only we didn’t have cactus along the Front Range
to remind us of
how harshly we’ve parched this Earth
how we’ve stolen the sky with fires
how these are not clouds trying to hide
the ever-present sun
water still as ice
while wildfires choke sky
with climate change breath
only this sunrise
shaped by feared wildfires
could make these strange scenes
how couldn’t you love
living amongst these sunsets?
set by fire, love.
you’ll never see light
like these Friday night lights, love.
you’ll see handlebars.
we win with bike lanes.
with the illusion of truth.
with blue skies and heat.
wherever you are
Colorado beats all
with its killer views
perfect Denver view
endless miles of transit
and of course, my bike
please shout, “On your left!”
while passing pedestrians
(also cyclists)
i know that you can.
don’t pass me as i pass peds
(don’t be an assbike)
my childhood home
with trees my parents planted
taller than our lives
a bike ride downtown
to this perfect patio
almost like old times
a bike ride downtown
on a trail no longer closed
(to me, at least): joy
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