you think
after the crash, after
the bike
goes down on the wet
wooden bridge,
bending your wheel,
and scraping your arms,
your knees, your ego,
you think that you'd
never get back on again.
that that was your last
ride
down the golden path
of love.
but it's not true.
you heal, you fix the bike,
fill the tires and get
wiser when you decide
it's time.
how quickly you
hop back on, and ride
and ride
all through the day,
into the night.
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