This poem needs to be read aloud with a certain amount of abandon and
old sing along songs echoing in your head with just a touch of Beastie
Boys at the end.

"Daisy, Daisy..."

Around around around around

Brightly baked bicycle frame;
glints and wobbles on the:
tarry, dry, two-lane-blacktop-asphalt-lakes of a country-road.

Around around around around
The pedaling sound.
[Nobody home - - - do da cross town bus pass dis way?]
Around around around around
Riding home on the range
after school, after dale, over hill, by the swale, and its
Eagle, Idaho, fourth grade and I ride
[the old school house dirt hill-sided contradiction
the erie canal buffalo girls come out tonight doo da ]
dry grass
slides slickly by
in the ditch where the dust and the grasshoppers grow.

[ twenty strange kids chase me around because I'm new to this town
singing someone's in the kitchen with Dina ]

Red winged blackbirds flash and
lurk with a flutter and a rustle in the swamp's cat tails
(corn dog flowers stuffed with cotton---oh yay, oh yay)

Crowded yellow country bus passes by.
Green vinyl seats, tall flat backs;
flexing grey frames
screwed to the floor
wobbling rubber
in the double door
heat and vibration
chatter at the windows
and my secret race
just passes by.

© Stephen Morse