Up and over the unimposing peak sailing on two wheels and a seat, the reprucussions of the rocks and pebbles beating percusive rythms into arms and backside, the gathering of speed, the loosening of joints and the extension of natural springs, the bottoming out of this very deep valley and the weightless flight of the body now extended above the bike, floating forward at 20, now 25, 26 miles per hour, pass over the gutter inteligentlly placed at rock bottom. then the last minute bus. Body bike bones blood organs float through the cold gleaming white surface, the bus is gone and the person is coasting still, the cold damp remains of soul splat onto the ephemeral bus and drip slowly downward like a placenta thrown at the wall, useless and eventually thrown away, just a mess, running down into the intelligently placed gutter. That was the day I stopped being a child and started stalking the sewers, became collector of the unaccountable.
