on: bike rides at 5am

the night left the sweet tears of its demise dewy on my seat. my hand brushed them away, ushering in the not-quite-dawn in the same motion. the road before me is laid out, a concrete red carpet from here to my door-step.

at this time of day, the traffic lights oblige my speed fantasies, flashing me yellow encouragement on my quest to break the speed limit. even the wind, now a sleepy breeze at my back, pushes me on, first towards the gentle downhill of beaver avenue and ultimately towards my bed.

the sounds of the street-sweepers, those metal mastodons of the morning, herald my declination on their daily route. i sleep, the city awakes.

i do not live here during the day.