Monday Afternoon

On Broadway,

between the homeless camp and the ale house,

I saw you.

Your hands glowing neon green

matching the accents on your bike

the one you so proudly displayed when we rode

during First Friday’s and Sunday mornings.

Your head was down and your legs at work

the hill you used to tell me so many times

to just peddle through.

Past the zooming traffic

I battled to meet your gaze

or for the wind to push you

into me.

For weeks I’ll wonder

if you spotted me

tumbling down the sidewalk

into building puddles and small

un-homed pieces of paper

like a fallen leave from it’s branch

lost and wandering aimlessly

into the unknown.