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I haven't written poetry in years . . .
buzzed, B&W
hairylunch
the moon is full as I leave my apartment on my bicycle,
its black exterior
matching the night

pedalling easily, leaving the glow of downtown behind me

darkness wraps around me, pierced by the flashing lights on my bike

hopscotching between the glow of the streetlamps

the night is quiet, my bike talking softly into the blackness
tires humming against the pavement,
a soft squeak from the worn hub,
and a mechanical whir emitted by the chain and cogs

riding into the darkness, escaping downtown,
pursued by my thoughts

my mind, refusing to shut down as I go up a long hill

thoughts chasing, even as I try to evade them, try to push them away

hoping to replace them with a simple cadence as I continue to pedal up the hill

losing momentum, my motivation fading fast as the thoughts overwhelm

turning around, bombing back down the hill, back into the lights of downtown . . .

back to my thoughts.

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