Excited, I rode the new two-wheel bike.
I kept falling off.
I begged a turn on the old red tricycle my brother rode.
He said, “no.”
He rode
by himself.
A few years later, I rode my new big red Schwinn.
My brother rode his new blue one.
I hated my girl bike with the swoop for the skirt I’d never wear.
I wanted the strong pole in the middle like his.
One day we had a race.
He swerved into me when I tried to pass.
Tires locked and we went down.
Now I ride by myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment