bike wreck

I ride up to the street corner, headphones blaring from underneath hair that falls below my ears. A bum is already at the corner, waiting for the light to change. I can't hear what the bum says, though his lips are moving. He is jogging in place, and has a noticeable black eye beneath a pair of coke-bottle glasses. The bum points at my handlebars, and even reaches down to touch the pink bar tape.
I removes the headphones, and asks, "Do you like it?"
Bum: "Well, yeah." He continues to run in place. "I just don't want you to take too much shit for it."
I laugh, and the bum looks up to see that the light has changed. And off the bum runs, across the street at the urging of the LED signal of a white man crossing Broadway.

The music continues to blare, and as the sun sets behind the mountains to the west, I sing along.
"Deniaaaaaaal.......Deniaaaaaaaallllllll........ehhhhhhhhhhhhh.......
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
I let my hands come up from the handlebars, the same pink steering wheel that the bum had just admired. Arms at my sides, I ride down the path as an airplane.
"Just as you take my hand.........Just as our drinks arrive........"

Up ahead, another traffic signal turns to red, and the cyclist slows with the sound of squeaking brakes. He thinks about all the work that needs to be done, but remembers that he has made it this far. The vanity can wait. He has to get home to brush his teeth, and fall asleep.

"Just as you dance, dance, dance."

It'll be an early morning, alarm at 5 AM for climbing before work. Nothing to worry about. No mental haymakers necessary, nor bosses to appease. No cancer to cure, no rent to pay. Just an early fight with gravity. The only fight that's immediately real.