Bless the bike,
its wheels, tires, chain & seat
on which i glide through city
streets
in
between the cars & roaring trucks
on Lincoln Ave;
Bless the tiny ball bearings,
the pedals, handles, gears all working in tandem
with the
clockwork of my legs
pushing circles:
left, right, left,
right, left;
Praise the kiss of wind on my face,
bless the caress of wind in my hair
wind rushing
through my clothes,
wind
pulling, pushing, air
brushing my whole body,
filling my nostrils,
hitting
my eyes,
Praise the way the bicycle
embraces
weight & masters gravity;
Praise the sensitivity of tires
on paved earth or grass,
the rickety
jittering of my frame
going over bumps & cracks;
potholes
shake my mind awake,
bringing me
back to earth;
uphill
stretches burn my calves
as i breathe deeper, sweating,
throwing
every ounce of force i have
into the push:
left,
right, left, right, left;
O bike, you are no robot i control
from the
inside,
but an extension of my very body
into metal &
rubber,
so, astride you, i thank God
for my own
blood & bones
which make
me move –
my brain & lungs & flesh
& guts
converting food & water i’ve
consumed
into ground
covered,
concrete distance
over which i fly—
left, right, left, right, left;
No, bike, you are nothing like a car
that hides me from the world outside,
& from
which, through the windshield,
Things come & go as if on
screen;
no – on you i am exposed,
naked
and immersed
in the water of the world,
i see, hear, smell, & feel it
all:
from the
weather to the sewer,
from the indian food shops on Devon
to
the fishy smell of the river
to
the fountain’s spray in Fellgher park
where
little children play,
i hear the paletero’s bell,
the howling rumble of the L,
& here i feel myself a part
of city, breathing with the rest–
a little blood cell
rushing
through Chicago’s veins,
pulsing with it’s heartbeat:
left, right, left, right, left –
On you, bike, i notice things like:
a toddler
rubbing noses with her mother
on
a bus stop bench,
the sound
of crickets
crossfading
to traffic,
streaks of
yellow light from lampposts
shining
in the water,
a single
gatorade bottle
on
a dark, empty basketball court,
a woman
sleeping on a bench
at
Milwaukee & Diversey
wearing a red hat,
leaning on a backpack;
Naked bittersweet Truth & Beauty stand before me,
revealed to
my eyes & ears as these montages;
&, bike, on you,
i engage
with people & with Things,
exchanging
passing smiles with a stroller family,
or, riding
past a walnut tree
who
extends a branch
low
into the street as if for a high-five,
i am happy to oblige, reach up
&
slap some leaves as i go by
Yes, bless you, bike, in the open –
long-live
the heartbeat of your ride
guiding feet in turning circles:
left,
right, left, right, left;
Bicycle, O little steed,
Praise you!
Always
on your
back
i
am one with road
&
landscape,
embodied,
one
with breath,
with metal,
seasons,
time,
& all
the billion People
& all
Things.
