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I want to mount my Bianchi
Ride out Aden Road to 28
Turn South
And go

I see mountains and trees
Birds, cars, trucks
Charlottesville, Lynchburg, Danville
Keep riding
Through the moon-lit night
And the break of dawn
No food, no water
Ride until my legs shake
My muscles cramp
And I fall
And scrape the pavement
Pea gravel stuck to my knees
Lie there
Until the dew soaks my bones
And my questions are answered

Longing for simplicity
Unity, Peace, Liberty, Freedom
From within these beige coloured boxes
Longing for sticks and stones
For bows and arrows
For fish and fires
For something, something
To disprove solipsism

I know the maxims of pop-psychology:
Hold everything with an open hand
Be contented first with who you are
Don't base your happiness on others
A permanent solution to a temporary problem

But, truly, is it temporary
For every day I say
This, too, shall pass
This, too, shall pass

From hitting many potholes
And rough crossings
A cat, a squirrel, a opossum
(or maybe by design)
My mind is out of alignment
The toe and camber of my soul pulls hard to the left
So I'm constantly fighting the wheel
Always tugging to keep it between the lines
While the check-engine light flickers

But my arms are growing tired
And the tires are wearing through
I need to find a mechanic who knows what he's doing
Because I can't waste my money any longer
It's been many, many years since my alignment was true

Such a pushover
The fallen ones waste no effort
"Look, he's up again, right as rain
Let's take a break
Go give him a spin
Twist him up
Then we can get back to work"

I'm a hungry man
A poor man
Who's been always asleep
Whilst a golden apple is eternally suspended
Two inches above my nose
If I could only manage to wake up

© 2012 (10 april) john r. chase

...okay, this isn't funny anymore...