My Tadpole Catrike

tadpole Catrike gobbles the miles
my feet flicking out of the gap
between the two front wheels
like a flickering snake’s tongue
from an unhinged serpentine maw

cold blue November sky
not a cloud in sight
the riverbed is damp from
our first all-day November rain
on Dia de Los Muertos

the bike path was washed
and wind-blown dry
now, a large bird of prey
sits on the guardrail
eyeing us, gliding by

plethoras of spandex-clad bikies
ride by, oblivious to all but their
own thoughts — as am I until
I let mine fly like a murder
of crows to the sun-filled sky

that warms my skin despite the cool wind
while the aroma of damp riverbed
pulls my eyes to the pond-sized
puddles beneath the Loop’s many
underpass bridges

too many spindly green sticks
all but a few Mexican sunflowers gone
the wild grasses have gone flaxen-tan
lizards and prairie dogs remain hidden
perhaps in their hidey-holes under ground

home at last, the ride is through
time to eat, relax and take a nap
tadpole Catrike maintained and put away
resting for another day, and just maybe
provide insights for my next stack of

almost-rhymes

–LE – 11/5/24

PS: I’ve been seeing a lot of electric, electrified, and otherwise motorized bikes and trikes on the Loop recently. The only motor on mine is the electro-biochemical-pump in the middle of my chest, pumping blood to my legs, arms, torso, and brain… keeping my pedals turning…; -) –LE