the Xenwood downhill
had been cleared of ice patches by the afternoon's sun
so I could hear the studded tires
against the asphalt
I could hear the tempo increasing
hear the speed
my numb fingers grabbed for the brakes
it was nighttime, after all
I was cold and cautious of the intersection
the driveways between snow piles
that emptied onto Xenwood
near the bottom I let go
as the brakes eased off the disks
the bike relaxed
and flowed into the straightaway
the rush was small
but not
incomprehensible
I pedaled to the street's end where I turned
away from home
and I pedaled up Webster, over 29th
where I saw myself 10 minutes prior
in the tracks of the wet snow
they wobbled left and right
I remembered holding my line
the snow lies
I coasted full-out the second time down
crouched
watching
tires buzzing
fingers ready to grab
but they
didn't
the third time
I stood pedaling up Webster
over 29th
in the sloppy snow
I hit the big ring, pedaled over the top
I flew down Xenwood
spinning
body warm
toes freezing
smile spreading
and this time
at the bottom
turned toward home
- TOfinally satisfiedB
