I wish I was capable of being in
veins tangled into
one of those
bicycle built for two
I spent years wearing a particularly
unflattering shade of vulnerability,
tripping over every tenth step I took or
now it’s all inside-voices, walk-not-
“don’t cry over spilled
milk” becomes meaningless if you
never drop the glass and
those who don’t fall don’t break either
but I can’t help but think that
perhaps I’ve been so worried about the crash that I
clipped my wings myself
and maybe the expiration date will get me
truth be told: I could probably still manage reckless… Reckless enough to spill the milk instead of waiting for it to rot. (but I doubt I could possibly be sentimental enough to cry over the mess)
So how ’bout it homeboy?
Care to be my gallon of 2 percent?
“The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.”
p.s. The bicycle for two thing is a reference to my parents, because when they ask if I want to come with them, I always say, “and what ride my unicycle?” because I think like they look like a circus on that thing.