It is not me who makes the balance; it is her too.
It is not her who maintains it; it is me too.
It balances the balance.
The chi-chewy bicycle rolls off a black road
with deliberations of oil, brakes and handles
while carrying a knapsack load.
And it rolls off.
Foolish spokes roll so fast,
sleepy brakes didn’t wake to last,
and it bumped into a scooter,
- the one with big ears that sound too much,
the big ones kicked every time it starts
and shouts out loud, as if it farts.
It did not hear the bicycle’s screech,
loud wide yet sleepy breach.
Lousy rim tremors among straight spokes
frantic pranks it plays on the road
bell tinkers and calls for silence
until the rider is wrecked in
the chi-chewy melody of screech’n tinker
to touch a halt - feet away from ground.
The road, the rider and the chi-chewy bicycle
- caught in circular balance.
13 April 2014