dawn foreshadows its arrival
with pink and purple brushstrokes
under high eastern clouds,
the chill that seeped into my arms
while riding
oozes back out at the stoplight,
and thoughts ricocheting
off the inside of my helmet
mask the memory of the pedalstrokes that powered the commute.
suddenly, i've reached my destination
and i'm locking my bike--so it won't be
a fleeting memory like...
the details of my ride.
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