Neils Caspersen

Faster than the spokes on my bike

As I raced through streets, alleys

And side yards, responding

To mom’s call, more certain

Than sunsets in ending the day’s

Shenanigans. Running or rolling

With Dorito dusted fingertips and

Lemonade scented breath, we had

No idea how far we would go.

My friends and I were rocks

Hewn in our own unique ways,

Thrust too soon in cold waters

We did not understand. Eventually,

We all become indiscernible, and in return

For our assimilation, we appear refined.

In being washed we have lost our edge.

In seeking less resistance, we have lost

Our luster. We no longer bike but drive

With the masses. We no longer play long

Under the streetlights, but find shelter

Whenever they come on.