A slow spitting rain
does not slow my journey home.
It does not help though!
Please, Eighteen Wheeler!
Could you respect my right-of-way?
You brushed my elbow.
Wet tires on brick
mean the start of my workday.
Hello Murray Hill.
Stream of consciousness
thoughts flow like a woodland stream.
Did I lock the door?
Hurry! Pedal fast!
A fierce adrenaline rush!
That pit bull can run!
Big Man in Big Truck!
I'm no match for your power:
Beep your little horn!
The fall leaves rush by:
a day-glo frenzy of flame.
A plein air bike ride.
Road wash-out ahead!
But no matter, we go on.
Bikes go anywhere.
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