print previewback HAYLEY GRAFFUNDER
Like Riding a Bike
There was a time
when we both had
mothers & bikes,
& spun around
your neighborhood
on two wheels
to get away
from them. Well,
I was getting away
from my mother,
who thought yours
would be with us
as we zipped
around corners,
chugged to the top
of hills & soared
back down. We must
have been six or so,
round-cheeked
& unsure
how to brake,
all downhill speed,
handlebars swiveling
out of control
& before I knew it
my body took flight
right into a mailbox.
I was fine but my Schwinn
was busted up, & you,
well I forgot
about you over time.
Maybe my mother
forbid us
from biking
together, or we
learned to drift
without crashing,
nothing to remind
us when to cry
& so we just kept
peddling until
we thought to look
back at what we lost,
to see it grow
small in the distance.
When I found
out last month
your mother had died,
my own
only said
how sad.
For days, all
I could see
was her face
when we finally
returned to your house:
first scolding us
for coming back
late, & then,
watching me walk
my crooked-seat bike
up the driveway,
how she ran to me— 
Like Riding a Bike
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