remember the bicycled boy
weaving down the street
in the gruel of pre-dawn
the boomerang toss to the
right then left then right?
today it’s a paper man
or a foldable woman
in a car that still weaves
but often in sunlight and
lacking the skill of the fling
I know because I’m looking
for the third time in bushes
and under my car
for the Times and Sun
as my coffee grows cold
and my mood even colder
I miss those dudes
who backpacked the news
on Schwinn’s and Huffy’s
and jangled their bells
just to say
America – Begin your day!
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