Hard plastic wedge, bike seat, pulsing into bruises
as she rocks backwards, forwards on conversed feet,
squeaking rubber under a red light, under broadening daylight.
Her image becomes a postcard slipped into the mail room of
thoughts drivers-by should address when they get around to it:
a young girl stuck to a ride with wheels going nowhere
behind impassable yellow lines
waiting for a little white man to appear
and tell her she can walk away.