Flying Down Xenwood

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