broken bottles and 10 speeds

Cadel Evans takes the yellow jersey and I race round the corner to the highway late for work thinking and rethinking whether or not to stop…


Should I stop?

I’m late.

fast corner, watch the paint lines, your tire could slip 

I’m already late, I should stop.


Car coming, pedal.

I could stop, turn back.

The sunshine will never be shining there tomorrow

the broken bottle with the torn orange label


what was it?

Southern Comfort?


It will never be there again, like that.

Not exactly like that.

scattered diamonds of white between the shadows flash past 

a kaleidoscope of morning

riding past the neighbors’ fence ‘s on my 10 speed

remember those?

a million years ago

too late

to stop

no picture for this post

umbrellas and flowers on the news…

This entry was published on July 24, 2011 at 1:29 am. It’s filed under Life, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

One thought on “broken bottles and 10 speeds

  1. Taylor Jamieson on said:

    It was Absolute Vodka…rode past this morning again and saw the same bottle swept off the roadside into the gravel and grass on the shoulder. I stopped. 🙂 A picture is a thousand words.


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