Bicycle

We ride our bikes into the brush 
flying effortlessly down winding thin roads
endlessly searching and reaching for that next breath
that next grace 
to lift the weight of gravel inside our stomachs
only to drop them into satisfying clusters of caught breath
and throw them up again as our tires track 
up to the top of the next sloping swoop of hill.

Overhead
vines and leaves crumble the sunlight into dazzling drops of warmth,
they shift glancingly across your back as you pass ahead of me.

For once, my competitive streak at this sleight of hand is soothed
as I watch you get smaller amongst the greenery
passing swiftly and peacefully alongside a glowing brook 
covered in twisting roots
and gliding underneath 
the industrial towering bridge of highway 
that caverns over our heads
warm from the sun
and swimming with heart and heat.

I can remember the smell of that summer
with the sun in my lungs 
desperately searching for a scent of peach 
to perfect the already thrumming image 
of love and life.

I can feel the weight of the Polaroid camera I wished for so desperately 
tapping snugly against my hip with every pedal of my wheels,
thumping a reassuring bruise that will stay to ache in reminder of this day 
for the few weeks this heady giddiness will last.

We took a picture at the end

slipped just under the train station roof,
my aunt with the camera catches us stopped in motion 
a gradient poise 
against the cerulean sky
bursting in energy and green
from an Earth soaked in sun.