7:30 a.m. the air a broom of burnt coffee and greasy meat sweeping off the river. Workers on bicycles with lunches tied to the handlebars swinging in plastic bags. Old men reeking of cheap soap and cologne walking with canes waving hello. Cats glaring and disappearing underneath houses. Those things exist in multiples. The dog in the road lowering her head. Me on the bike thinking my sweat was rain. I reel it in and go at it again. If you love me like you say you do you'll try a little tenderness. This day is it - an/other chance.
« A Clean Goat Needs No Water | Main | I have a home »
28/06/2004
Comments
The comments to this entry are closed.
You were out at 7:30 a.m.?
Are you wearing the same old tattered dress? You need some tenderness? I recommend a good nap and a bottle of wine.
Sincerely,
O. Redding
Posted by: On Road | 28/06/2004 at 15:17
you always were a river rat
Posted by: detroit s. | 28/06/2004 at 19:46
I get up at 7:15 to pedal that bike down to the river and back.
D.S. yr right - I'm kookoo about the river, esp the banks of it, what collects there, what passes, man that stuff makes me crazy happy, how that river just keeps moving, damn.
remember the bike rides to the detroit river?
Posted by: eliza. | 28/06/2004 at 20:12