You
Your shirt untucked
Your knees scraped
And tears seemed the whole of your face
The trees behind you obscenely green
You walk back to your little bike
Kick it viciously
Then get back on
You ride, wobbly and unsure
Past the neat little houses
In the harshly divided suburban landscape
Across driveways of dried up arteries leading to closed doors
You turn, unsteady
And ride back to me
And toward my fondest hope for you –
Pedal until you break free
– E. Wohn
