Riding round the Park
Tired and dumb, no numb
Of riding around this circle of park
Passing slow bikes cursing red lights
Cars do hassle, and walkers without eyes
Vex the speed down the rise
The sweeping turns could be fun
But there is always someone
Right where I need to go not breaking.
Too early it’s dark, or the frenzied pack
Of racing fools think it means something.
After that a leisurely spin dodging
Unkempt commuters, on wheels of sorts
I’ll wait till lunch and catch the buggies.
Then feel the pull to get out of park
Blast the runners, strollers, watchers, and roller
Bladers. The cloud seekers, and ladies with sneakers.
It looms better than it is, the joy is leaving.
Yet, you see the same people over again.
Riding round the park.