When I’m biking anywhere for more than a few minutes, my minds sometimes starts to wander. I’ve been in New York visiting family for the holidays this past week, and it happened to wander upon some poetry in my bicycling travels.
My battleship is a bicycle
my ocean-venturing vessel
swiftly she zips
through the current of traffic
steadily she wades
though the icebergs that scrape the sky
there are many like her
but none like the captain
whose next battle, a burrito, awaits.
Welcome home my son, I hope you told Boston I said ‘what’s the matter with you?”
Traverse my newly grown veins by bicycle, your love for me will only grow
My growing army of sky scraping financial canons keep me safe and sane,
Walk to the pace of my stock ticker, cycle to the speed of your heartbeat
Beware of taxi cabs, the aquatic species, forever in feeding at the sight of an airborne hand
My Pedestrian children are colorblind, crossing my veins at the color of a break in current
To Beantown you can run, you can cycle
But I am the Big Apple
For your first eighteen years
I run in your blood.