Photograph of a young Bicyclist passing a rusted old car from the 1950's

The Bicyclist

LGBTQ, Poetry

I ride my bike past your office

because

you say the secretary thinks
I’m cute,

you say it makes you smile.

I stop and wave and she opens
the door and winks and says with
hard Rs, “Ya gonna give it to me
when ya go straight, right?’

I wink back and smile as I ride off,

“Sure thing!”

That night we made love and slept
in each other’s arms: safe in the
childhood of our 20’s.

Image and poem (c) Rob Goldstein 1985-2018  

 


44 thoughts on “The Bicyclist”

  2. That last line, man. I love it. The entire post is beautiful, as is the picture. Goes hand in hand, for lack of a better term. Hey, how are you doing Robert? I’m reconnecting with people from my old blog. Anyhoo, keep on churning out the good stuff from your brain factory. Mad respect.

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