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Poetry: Biking

by Linda Ann Nickerson

Biking

My friend and I were going biking

Until my shorts, they started hiking.

They went north, and I went south;

In short, we had a falling out.

We had to stop and readjust;

I mounted up again, nonplussed.

Then, bent in two, I grabbed the bars

And dodged three more oncoming cars.

My spine in spasms, I persisted,

Until my knees and calves resisted.

"Isn't cycling grand?" I cried.

"Let's go tomorrow," Sam replied.