Midnight Bike Rides

By Kelly Grace Thomas

 

Midnight bike rides to cross town confessions,

I’m on the street at 3am again, looking for direction.

Head back, arms out, the wind dances in hair.

I want to remember a time

when pleasure didn’t come with a price tag.

The avenue of my mistakes are light up like Christmas,

but no one is waiting at the door.

Sometimes, I think reality is clandestine, dissembled  

in a salty corner with only the truth and time.

We dream at sunrise sepia,

the pedals never stop.

The frames of this night,

white lights

palm tress

empty windows,

write this rambling dedication.

Come to the window, when you wake.