c. (chreid) wrote,

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bad dreams like this roll in like a cold front

there is a sweet, sweet bicycle laying upright against the wall in my backyard.  i would love to take it for a spin tonight, but i've spent the majority of the weekend timid and tense - i am learning about bleeding and it will be weeks before i ride again.

and of bikes and riding: i think fondly of n. and the passing of time; i am increasingly inspired to go-go-go-get away from here.  me: so unwholesome next to her sound righteousness.  my debt to her: an impossible vacuum in which i will surely burn infinite.  (still, i won't go down easy - i am no smooth elixir.)

with my palms outstretched and ticket in hand, i will cross your waters some day.
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