I’m not a brave person.

I stayed on the trike for far too long.

My cowardice might be a curse and

it’s easily reversed by a hit from a bong.

There’s nothing better than being stoned

and riding my bicycle through the woods like Queen.

Even on my own I don’t feel alone

pedaling past hidden wildlife and topiary begging to be seen.

Truth is, I’m afraid as fuck every time I get on the seat.

And prepare to take off, but what if my feet

slip and fall and smash into the concrete?

Going downhill at ridiculous speeds

I feel so out of control but perfectly at peace.

Bikes are fucking cool.