(no subject)

We bicycled by in the dark.

A road like an arm with its hand in the dark. It leaned, we leaned into dark from less dark.

We bicycled by and two of them turned. Two out of three of them turned.

One turned all the way like she'd bicycle too.

Another half-turned as though spun into memory. To her all we were was a foot of a memory.

The third didn't turn so who knows who she was.

The bicycle girl we felt pass in the wind. She was there up ahead, any shape in the dark.

The other was back where some part of us was that we never would meet.

She was turned like a knee from all sense of the street.

The third brushed us all from her arms and walked on.

Looking back going forward I hit several branches. No pain, but like six warning mothers at once.

I dodged an invisible moon with a lean, too late aware they'd warned just of themselves.

The dark up in front of me laughed like a girl. The dark that had drunk my companions.