The Kinetic Cathartic

Ladies & Gentlemen, meet Senna. He writes. I post. You read.

The Kinetic Cathartic part I

Where the castle once stood
no less, a castle of wood
are large lots of stacked mesh crates
plastic square containers translucent
stacked 6 high, 400 gallons each
of oil, and fuel, and lubricants used

The bike path passes this sight
and to the right
highways full of zoom and roar
a long long stretch on two bridges
Median of a screaming INTERSTATE.
lucky: tailwind
chosen: downhill
next time bring earplugs and a gas mask
No feeling in this infinitely open tunnel

Only

Movement

The thought of her movement
and those finely laced wheels I gave her
spinning past me with joy and grace
Heart’s a broken
Heart’s a broken
hearts are flyin
I cannot forget.

It will never be the same
Dark rooms will house me from the rain
on dark days, with no desk to rescue me
Will I rest on the fact of togetherness?
Will I default to warmth, will she be there?
Was it worth all that to get me to RIGHT HERE?
Sometimes yes, sometimes I don’t know.

Bladed spokes sing in a crosswind
and radial lacing reflects the spin so pretty
There’s one lady who can keep up with me
but she took a left and dropped me
So I was left in heaps of sorrow
and today is the past tomorrow.

Seems the only ones truly worth loving
are the ones that hurt so in losing
as to break a man into less than a boy
and reduce his love to a wine’s residue.
Heart gets hard like crusted rubber
Tools get sorted, spacers; cogs get cleaned.
It will never be the same

But here it is!
It is… IT IS the same.
It’s the same fickle hopelessness
Agony in the pleasure garden
Intolerable stupidity all around.
All around. Not funny anymore.

Where I am there are no pools
No courts or nets
No stainless countertops
I don’t miss them.
I have this asphalt ribbon and
a faded yellow line
and a vast city of smoke and light.

Part II

Grass to straw
Still grass strong and green
glowing through polarized lenses
the amber light and human debris
Nothing more beautiful than the road.

I stopped early in the ride
my chain dry,
I used a FOR SALE tractor’s dipstick
and rode away
on the wings of lube.

My soreness, my thinness
it propels me around loops
and over sand
unafraid of speed, I land
and loop around segments
of a ride, over a river

Power comes to my legs
as the ride nears its end
ending with a meal
hungry on an apple sugar high
I climb and climb
and whip by cars with finesse.

The stepped edge of asphalt
gives way to sidewalks
the passage into and out of
a park, where stillness nourishes
where today, my tires roll through.