wheels

cycling along a rainy path, eyesight blurred with raindrops and mist, right, left, right, left, circle, circles hypnotised yourself, mind wandered and all the rest with it. fary-tale crashed against very real railing -- enclosures? prisons? manicured gardens? slow motion the world tilts up to meet shoulder, arm, side, leg, the bycicle rushes to meet world encountering resistance from other shoulder, arm, side, leg. wedged between the ground and the mechanics, memories of childhood prompt tears, floods, cries. mum will come and make it better. but instead men rush to, and humour must come to the rescue, ego hurt, nothing to worry about, run along, leave me with my world and my bycicle. once on the ground, i can't go any further. i would stay here forever, but there's rain and dust and i have to keep going.