Pandemic Poem #19
Camp Chase 3.0
Tiny mailbox stars and stripes tip in the breeze
While internal criticisms blast my brain
Too few parking spots, too many bikers
All see you ugly
Throwing caution to the flag-filled wind,
Three miles starts across the Big Darby
Topping the curved rise, two earbuds become one
So huffing can be controlled before
Puffing becomes embarrasing
A turtle’s pace passed by swiftly cycling partners
Two by two, as far as the eye can see
(Or at least until the one point five point)
Swirl past, a different kind of
Memorial Day zoom parade.
A slow and ungainly gazelle plods
The single sore thumb in a tee and capris
Swallowed by prides of lions in spandex and helmets
Volume up, so their shouted shared judgements
About speed or looks or mere presence
Wound only the wind this time.
One point two miles in,
“On your left” signals
a single in a European jersey
who slows his ten-speed to smile
“That’s a nice pace. Keep it up!”
The first kind comment shared
In hundreds of trail miles together
“Thank you, I’ll try,” I smile back
As he pedals the grade.
Fitbit says 17.00″.
Not my best
But better than nothing.
Rounding halfway and back toward home
Sweat and sun say summer has arrived
Note to self: eight a.m. is too late
to avoid migraines. No later than seven after today.
Zero point five to go. Body says you can do four miles.
Migraine says three and a dark room.