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Bicycle Riding by Heather Candels February 21, 2007 I am the queen of Coon Rapids Riding my blue Schwinn Red and white streamers flying from the handlebars The king and the jack clipped onto the spokes with clothespins Announcing my coolness to the lazy bones Sitting on their steps drinking Kool-Aid My bicycle tires scribble invisible trails Up and down the long tar ribbon of Magnolia Street I imagine grander boulevards and hold a transistor to my ear Petula Clark sings from a faraway place "You wander around on your own little cloud" I fiddle with the dial Vietnam, the word I heard but never understood Bores me back to the music My other hand on my waist Look Ma No Hands! I can take a corner by leaning into it My balance near perfect The handlebars obeying my sways until the screen door opens And I'm called for dinner Watch this, I say outloud as I Attempt to take the driveway in a hands-free flourish But the steep hill Dethrones me and the plastic banana seat Tears open to foam and hard metal Transistor smashed into plastic bits, Scraped elbows, bloody knees, Broken tooth, A battery lost in the gravel My brother on the front porch laughs and yells, "You are such an idiot." About the author: My name is Heather Candels. I am a native of Coon Rapids, but I have lived in Connecticut for 25 years. Some of my poems have appeared in various journals. I teach middle school English in Wilton, CT, and am currently writing a novel about a little girl in Minnesota. | | | |
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