The Bicyclist

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