-the Schwinn at 24 inches-

It leans against the entry wall
as he sleeps, when he's eating,
or when people are coming over
and he's required to be in the house
in case they ask questions.

the wall's plaster is painted toilet-green,

is cracked-open in places like the x-ray
of a ribcage and the flakes of its slats drift
and settle to dust its seat.

sensational girl rides the rail—
legs from her dress
drape the side outward,

the rail-side to weather,

daring the chain-guard
challenging the onslaught—

hair blown
from her face to his face

her hands
on his hands at the grips

as much as dancing, it was dancing.

coast the hillside down to the red-

bricked house,
the Project's last stand at the banks of the river,—
house outside like all of them
house inside like no other
bicycle breaking toward the water.

thread the glove through,
drape the spikes over, peddle fast
to the ballpark,— his ballpark in waiting
an uphill ride to the east
and a little bit north to his neighborhood.

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