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Karen Greenbaum-Maya
Two
Sidewalks eat knees, heel of hands.
I try to land softer
but I’m no rider, no driver.
I’m diver, hostage, carried too fast.
Pull yourself together straighten up ride right,
find music for those two hundred muscles,
the tune everyone else dances to,
shimmering along
on two wheels’ shifting tangent to the sidewalk.
Babysitter runs along behind.
She grabs the book rack
giving me another good push,
gabbling pointless advice crazy as a fever dream,
but I am elsewhere,
waiting for magic unbiddable as orgasm,
I fall and mount, fall and wait.
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