PHYSICAL THERAPY


The therapist
Said I was
Going to ride a bike
On that particular session

I have always
Love cycling

When I was
8 years old
My father
Got me my
First mini—bike

It ran on
Gasoline
And it had
Little fat tires

I wasted no time
I took the maid’s daughter
For a ride

It felt good
The way she put
Her arms
Around my waist

When we arrived
At the first stop sign
We gently crashed
On the Mexican pavement
Just across my house

We got up and
I parked the bike
On the driveway
And sat on the
Back seat of
My parent’s car
Where my riding partner was
Waiting for me

I laid down
Placed my head
On her thighs
And she started playing
With my hair
Her fingers were
Massaging my scalp
And it felt so good
She was wearing a skirt
And her skin was soft
Against my face

I am thinking
On all of this
As I struggle
To peddle on
The gym’s bike
And I can hardly do it
Because my knee
Will not bend enough

The therapist told me
“You will recuperate
If you keep up
The hard work”

And I know
I will ride a bike
Again