Ode to a bicycle:

O velocipede of dreams, with you in between my legs, we will fly over to Atlantis, with Never never land never far behind in the itinerary. We will journey to the end of the world, upon gilded rubber wings crisp and leathery and you will make me feel safe. We will ride upon lightning, upon light, scale Neptune's trident and sail across a thousand seas from which no god nor monolithe would be so blithe. We will
cycle to a vast and isolate meadow, upon which we will lay, counting blooms and
drawing clouds with our fingers encircling blue on blue skies with the cinnamon
sharpness of my tobacco smoke against the burning gears of your soma. We will write upon each other, I, careful not to mar your strong thin body with words without rhyme nor meaning, you with the gentle cadence of wheels upon gravel, my hands gripped strong-enough-to-know-I'm-there around your handlebar. Grip me
harder. And when speed and friendship and journeys toiled bring us further than
ever, deeper into the never, I will let go

And
you and I will fly eternal.