I'm holding a glass.
a short glass.
clear, with many facets.
its fragrant, the bourbon, warmed from my holding hand
I sip it,
that's not usually me.
I think about the season in front of me
the rides. races
The top of the list.
my 100mile cx ride.
from my door to my door.
I'd only invite a few to join me.
Chad, Arthur, Meshia.
bill callahan - sycamore
along the way I'd like to see M.festa, j.bruce. joe wentzell. JRenyolds. Mr. Kelly cline.
We'd pedal on. up boys to men.
shit, why not Appeltons and Featherman.
I think when we became domesticated, it'd be hard to argue against, that we lost something. We became stupid pussies.
the last week was up in Boston. and i worked with people I like. we'd take cabs, all'd do good work, drink, sleep in beds that someone else would make for us.
of course I want G. Klimi to ride along, carlos, nikki, nick, dennis, fatM. all of you, everyfuckinoneof-yus. even Frodo, Logan.
shit I want you all to have banners, flags, tippin something into, pour in my glass.
I'd ride up the cynwyd trail by myself, needing a place to piss, drunk.
i'd round the corner, and Right, into the driveway. home.
"hey Jeffeson" I'd say to one of the kitties.
I'd smooch my wife, shower, nap, go out to dinner, go to bed, get up to work, and think,
maybe, maybe,....... on a single speed.
just a usaul sunday night for me, listening to music, with a cat sitting on me. my wife, watching some tv. an abraham lincoln documentary.
cheers, ride on. dlowe.