Chasing a Dream

When I got on this bike

Yesterday

98 degrees

Blazing sun

Hot wind

 

Now at night

Same t-shirt as yesterday

It is chilly

Goose pimples

Set jaw

 

Even though it’s cold

I want to feel

The wind

Through my hair

 

I am rolling

Down the interstate

On two

Black

Rubber wheels

 

Balls

 

“Picture yourself standing on a ball,” John said.

“What color is it?”

 

“Green,” I said.  Secretly thinking my original ball may have been red, but red sounds more alarming than I would like to perceive myself portraying on the outside.

 

I picture myself

On top of my ball

Balancing

Arms extended

The ball is my world

It moves under my feet

But when I’m in my element

It seems to glide

I roll with it

Perched

Giving

Taking

Flowing

 

Just slightly

Fair of 75

I roll

Two black balls

One in front

One in back

Gliding along

 

Set in motion

Guided by my will

Luck

Fate

 

A deer

Shinny eyes

Edges

Every ditch

 

Each car

I pass

May loose me

In their

Blind spot

Inadvertently

Attempt to share

My lane

 

As long

As I stay

Conscious

While awake

I am allowed

To roll

My big

Black

Balls

freely