Momentum, by Amanda Bell

Momentum by Amanda Bell

A clan of cyclists
Rolling down Soquel today.
Fifteen, maybe, all together.
Circles turning somersaults.
Men in tight clothes
And numbers, blues
And reds. Heads protected,
Eyes behind goggles, shoes
That go click when they stop
(Real quick) climb off, and tap tap
Along the sidewalk to a public restroom.

Where are they going
All together in a bunch
Down a street that’s built
For drivers that zoom
On a busy Saturday afternoon?
Quiet…whoosh….quiet….whirr
Bike lane narrows, cars a blur.

Gloved hands grip the handlebars
Feel the wind as you coast
Down looking around. The group
Spreads as they see the ocean
Rising into view. And the traffic thins
Around them. Just the air and the sun
And the helmets come off.
Although it took half an hour to dress
Like a serious cyclist
One of them turns off suddenly,
Looks back to wave, and sheds
His gear, dropping it off
The side, clip clop, leaving a trail
To find his way back, perhaps?

Wind rushes past his ears.
Tears blur his eyes.
The concrete ends and he bumps
Bumps along the sand with force
For a moment. He sails
And separates from his bike,
Arms circling, legs still pushing
Invisible pedals. And like the greatest
Sports photo, one that wins prizes,
He is frozen like that,
Above the world, out
Of his seat, halfway
To the edge of the continent
From the parking lot. Until his
Consciousness kicks back in and he propels
Himself the rest of the way
To the cold thick sea
Where he swims with what is left
Of his might.