Ride

Cloth top snap off,
sticks shift
brakes break the floor
no more--
when pedal hits metal she's gone.
Dash gripping,
the lights go down on a curve--
seats two comfortably,
on these off days.

She's got the city streets
under her skin,
long blocks and the
intersection
blue-red blocked up
in the wait for green.
Which it turns,
only. . .
if she's feeling a little brainsick.

No,
the tunnel is closed tonight.
Go around,
explore the detour.
Hands off the hills.
The business district
is uptown from here.
We will make no
further announcements:
watch those orange cones.

AKL 2005