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.