i woke up today // port o'brien
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He runs his runs his fingers through his hair with one hand,
and mounts a bike with the other.
It's humid out, as usual.
He puts both hands on the handlebars and kicks off,
feeling the warm air
caress his face.
He rides past walls and walls of green,
birds chirping, screaming, calling.
He rides past waves of blue,
crashing and rising, seagulls overhead.
A car horn honks from behind,
passing him, a hand sticks out the window and waves.
YOU ARE READING
twelve tracks
Poetry“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche /// (c) mockingjayde 2013 (c) respective artists and musicians.
