Sunset Bike Ride

There was a bashful moon tonight,
almost full, but a day or two shy of boasting about it.
I went for a bike ride
just before it got dark.

The sun had set.  The street lights had yet to come on.
I rode side streets in my neighborhood to be safe.
My legs had a life life of their own,
they pumped and pumped madly
as if driven by anger  or frustration.

I flew past the McMansions
where God's Elect
sheltered behind their iron gates
(the gate code being Ronald Reagan's B-Day).

 As I streaked by,
blackbirds  tutted and flew into the trees.
I heard a cricket sing and then crickets joined in chorus.
Terriers yapped, their owners oblivious to their warnings.

Twenty-six minutes later I was home.
As I reached my house
an  ice cream truck played "Music Box Dancer,"
like a tocsin for the end of the day.

I was home marveling at the madness
that had gripped part of my body,
trying to understand why I had done
 what I had just done.

Capitano Tedeschi

30

Sunset Bike Ride copyright July 30, 2012 by Jamie Jacks