A.M. Wood

she chastises my wound care.

the one on my knee, dug into Fort Ord pave,
while 'strating a wheelie.

she laughed then.

she laughs now.

and i say, 'well, honey ... it's kept bloody in honor.'

For it is the last shed this road season.


. . . mmmm ... cyclocross.

how sick, that dreams of cross invade so soon?