mirah tells me.
and really,
she's right.
(in lots of different ways.)
i'm riding my crappy 80's road bike
around the outskirts of town
(which isn't as far as it sounds.)
it's the darkest shade of night,
as i duck in and out of street lights,
escaping lots of things.
with the recent purchase of my bike
comes the recent option for escape
from the dorm rooms and den chairs
that occupy my nights,
from the campus riddled with buildings
which have nothing to do with me
and only a handful that I frequent,
from the main campus drag
with the gas station
and twenty four seven copy shop.
so i'm not there.
i'm here,
on my bike.
and i'm thinking this:
i wish i had a process of disambiguation.
and conversely, ambiguation.
i'm patenting that shit,
if i ever figure it out.
see,
some things
(like school work
and my pseudo-librarian job)
make all too much sense.
and the goal is known.
i wish i could reinterpret these things,
and prioritize as i please.
maybe,
i'm just getting society's morals pushed upon me,
like being forced into a body bag.
maybe.
Also,
some things need
and deserve
an answer.
some people deserve an answer
(including me!)
but really,
i think i'm supposed to come up with
the answers and the like.
woops.
Cigarettes and ibuprofen are saving my life
and killing me all at the same time.
and short brisk walks to and from
here and there
and a poorly planned stairwell
create an all to obvious
(and awkward)
divergence.
speaking of which,
i'm off the main road and
riding down the windy bike path
skirting the watching eyes of,
well,
no one in particular.
"so simple, yet so complex"
mirah sings on.
i wish i could ride my bike all day long.
