The Ride

Ride with me—
clasp my dream, hold me close
and hang on tight.

The wheels on this bike
spin, like the wheels
of a fifty-seven Chevy
in heat down a quarter mile stretch.

The road we’ll ride
is downhill steep

the ride, a tailspin, a barrel-roll.
See the gravel at our feet—
don’t cry sweet,
I’m scared too.

Just hold me tight, and
don’t let go.

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