Tuesday, October 9, 2007

The Last Ride

I wheel you around
to the other side of the table
and we get a handle on the day
over a morning cup of coffee.
Soon and completely unexpectedly
I will release you into the world,
but in these, our final moments together,
we remember the good times:
mutual early morning sluggishness
and moonlit examples of perfect synergy --
the seams in the sidewalk
flickering underfoot
like frames of film,
each telling the microsecond story
of millions of travellers before.
Nearby a flower
loses its petals to the autumn chill
and rests naked but assured
of spring.
Two blocks over
a schoolboy's heart breaks
which will ironically
never stop him
from letting it happen again.
In the factory district
an assembly line
moves in the expert precision
that had always been intended.
You'll be in good hands.
This world was made
for the likes of you;
it knows what it's like to turn
on a rusty old axis.
Don't go down without a fight.
and remember that somewhere
someone wouldn't be where they are today
without you,
and that without you
he'd never have found his way home --
at least, not as easily.
I was the needle,
you were the thread,
and we wove the streets of this
tired, old city
into a patchwork blanket
until today,
when I must tuck you in
to the folds of its bedrock.
Bye, cycle.
Thankfully, you taught me
what to do with life's little punches.


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