Photo from my personal collection

A Bike Metaphor

Jon E. H. Burton
Mar 19 · 1 min read

i forgot how to write
because there aren’t any words
that do her justice.

it’s a lot of sounds
like how her hair sounds on the pillow
as she rolls over at night
or how the fridge warms up
when she opens it

i can’t keep ice at home
it melts when she’s around
what a prize to have won
now that spring’s next in line.

when i want to jump like a child
excited for my brand new bike
my instinct is to stand still
and experience the whole universal everything
envelop me in a soft death-hug
crushed by biology, willingly

a bike metaphor sounds weird,
but she’s going places
and i want to ride along
for the adventure through the mushroom cloud
my bags are already packed

but we don’t have to do anything
unless we want to
not that we wouldn’t want to
not that we couldn’t
instead, we have the world
every step,
somewhere new.

Jon E. H. Burton

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