10.08.10 0630

by coupcontrecoup

God lives on a bicycle,
The early morning air,
biting at your face w/
the threat of a fast approaching winter.
What ever happened to the days of ease?
The days when you didn’t need
alcohol to sleep.
The days before adulthood.
Everyone complains.
Find my reclusiveness difficult.
Almost torture.
In condition…
As always, comfort rises
w/ my tasks;
books, writing, music.

God lives on a fixed gear.
Before sunrise,
he rides with me.