From the doorway of the basement
To the dog walk park by the river
Alongside the rails of the freight train
Behind supermarkets
And down bumpy roads in need of repair
I grip handles, peel through rocks
Against wind and odds
Triumphantly sweat wet through my shirt
Hair messy, heart racing
Legs winding rhythmically
Spokes are sundials out of time
Tires stolen from Apollo’s chariot
Frame fashioned from the brain of some giant cyclopean wizard
Me seated glorious, rain, snow, sun
A blur in the scheme
An infinite rider


Andrew Borne is 2 Cups Poet 1 teaspoon Musician 1/4 teaspoon Salt 1/2 cup Absurdity 3/4 cup Chef 1 egg, beaten 2 1/3 cups Family Man. Mixed together and served raw. His column 7x appears weekly in Oddball Magazine.