I coast on a seasoned cruiser. She’s heavy, made of metal, built to pick up speed.
My feet spin in cadence, reeling a line; we sail the smooth pavement on a current,
skirting manhole covers, twigs, lesions in the concrete. I coax her with my weight, a half-tweak of the handles –
we roll off the curb and she groans, her stiff joints, hefty frame not fashioned for bunny-hops.
We’ve shared this route many a time, the path as familiar as habit, variance lies only
in the lights. But tonight, as the breeze whispers a lullaby to bobbing branches, and insects dance
around concrete candles, the road ahead beckons: strung with ivy, the leaves, all green.
Ben von Jagow
Ben von Jagow is a writer from Ottawa, Canada currently living in Denmark. His poetry has appeared in journals such as The Stockholm Review of Literature, Porridge Magazine, and The Literary Review of Canada, among others. For more of Ben’s work, visit benvj.com.