Bike

thru my window I have watched him
whose secrets blew open and unafraid
before when gripping handles with both hands
    hair hung like hickories on a sylvan wind
in the street of the neon gods

the little boy that broke his vows
whose secrets stood staunch and mighty in the pirate wind
    parks his bike in the drive of dying
stoops low to finger the muddy pool
    and see himself
when the street lights close their eyes

I have grieved a thousand times
for the face gone gray with childhood's end
for the rusty steed and its rider
    lord of the pirate queens grown old
I have grieved for the secrets that raced the vagrant leaves

by signs that stop the rivers of smoldering stone
    I have held my fists and dreamed
of the smoky fragrance of May lying low in the valleys
devoured by the dog winds of February
    of a dream that ended,
    of a wind that blew the world away
of autumn on the little boy's forehead
    and in his eyes


    - Senior Year, 1986