ODE #1 TO A STING RAY BICYCLE
Kenneth DiMaggio
While we saw their V-shaped handle
bars banana seats and tall prong
sissy bars as the abstraction
of a Harley Davidson
our aluminium framed pedal
powered Sting ray bicycles
could go in urban
crevices and rural waste scape ditch-
abyss-es that would break the springs
or blow the tires
of any evil bad-ass chopped motorcycle
And no matter how hard you pedaled
there was always before us
a chalkboard slate gray
horizon
just waiting to teach us
a lesson
not unless we taught you one first
at the highway overpass
from which we threw off swamp water
filled balloons or gobs of spit
that we liked to imagine
would sizzle through your now speeding
sedan roof
But no police cruiser was ever quick
enough
And even if it was
it was just too damn big
to fit into escape routes
tunnled through a cut away
barbed wire topped fence
or between the marble and Celtic cross-
stone rows at the cemetery
Only
when we were finally out of breath
would our delinquency stop
and only then
long enough
to light up
a Marlboro
that our eight nine and ten year old
lungs could easily inhale
And then after we had a good long exhale
complimented by the word Fuck!
we would ride towards the horizon
that still needed more legends
for us to vandalize upon
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