In the bicycle peace
of a long coast
between stubbled fields
the wind in my mouth
the cartridge sweetly ticking
i lean into the bend
at the old barn
in the solitude of speed
i hear it again
what no one else has ever heard
the tone of her voice
when she called me "J"
why not say what happened
and here's the barn
with its captured dark
passing as i rise
shifting down for the climb
my eyes tearing
from the speed of it all
someday soon?
