RIDING A TRICYCLE

there comes a moment when i die every day, and sometimes the
taste of lemon in my mouth and sometimes a fragrance of
regretful roses which stuns me since i forgot what love
smells like, mostly. i remember my childhood on sidewalks
on a tricycle and how i counted creases between slabs
of concrete never knowing i measured moments of
how my life would unfold — i think life is small feet
upon pedals where we sometimes slip and scrap our ankles.
When we are young and small the world is a very tall and
scary place; when we’re grown it’s even more so.
i remember ice cream and a bright moon at night too.
Mostly i remember freedom from all ideology and prejudice
which i have fiercely tried to keep within my heart.

:: 07-25-2015 ::