I remember, mostly,
the sunlight, the dirt that danced,
the gleam off glass, for sunlight does fall
on the damned
and even the concrete bleeds green
when the cavalry of weeds
sabers it apart.
when I ran away,
I saddled my pink Schwinn
palamino for the broken brick trails, cap gun on hip,
free running in sun that stroked silver
a handlebar mane, free not to feel, just to
ride for the Duke and his five-pointed star.
She let him hurt me but
he never scared me.
I smelled his weakness, a clowning
in smoke and beer, his wet whiskey blankets
that cold-covered nothing. I knew I was already
gone where he would never be
even if at night there was
no sun and the Duke
was somewhere else.
Challenge: Fireblossom Friday
Location, Location, Location!
The ever versatile Fireblossom asks us to write a poem where location is important, or as she puts it, "...just make sure that the "where" of the poem is a vital part of it."
Optional Musical Accompaniment
Image: 1950's Pink Schwinn
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