It’s like we’re all bicycles
and we all have these handlebars
and some of the handlebars and some
of the seats are incredibly beautiful
not to mention the way the wheels spin
and the bells ring

and the reflectors reflect and we can’t
look at them and we can’t stop looking at them
and all we really want is to get on top of them

and ride off into the sunset but they say
hey I’m not a bicycle okay
I have an eternal soul that you can’t see
because you’re so focused on my handlebars
look they’re only handlebars okay you’re such a
foot all you think about is pedaling
all you think about is wind wind wind
so then we nod a little guiltily and maybe
finger a spoke a little sheepishly
and ask for their forgiveness
and maybe they feel sorry for us then
because our desire feels ugly to us then
when really it’s beautiful
and they’re beautiful and we’re beautiful
and they lean over and offer us
their basket which is somehow attached
to the place where their handlebars meet and our lunch
is in there and their lunch is in there too
so we sit together munching our lunches
under the big trees
all desire gone for the time being
the wind playing up in the branches
our souls playing near our discarded shoes
kickstands gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight

About Paul Hostovsky

Paul Hostovsky's poems appear and disappear simultaneously (Voila). His work has recently been sighted in places where they paid him for his trouble with his own trouble doubled, and other people's troubles thrown in, which never seem to him as great as his troubles, though he tries not to compare. He has no life, and spends it with his poems, trying to perfect their perfect disappearances, which is the working title of his new collection, which is looking for a publisher and for itself. To read more of his poems, visit his website by clicking the link above.

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