Cycling within the Watermelon Darkness of the Night

I whirl on, on damp black roads on my twin and wind-word wheels, bare-chested and breathing, in the dark what’s always in the air but that the sun colors there, peddling swiftly through night’s blackness. Closer to the night’s strength, bug sounds, cool wind in the trees, and rushing field grass over the darkness-opened earth as I smell watermelon and gaze at the glitter stars in the sky that’s bigger than when it’s in daylight. I tire and button my shirt before I turn to home.

October 1971