Smooth and quick—the bikes pass
your window. On the main route
East to West, they float by quiet,
unheeding your shrill alarms. Hundreds
each afternoon, confident and teasing.
Pacing marathons, whimpering, paws
massaging the glass. Dance interpretations
anxiety and claustrophobia. The long wait:
for food, a leash, a miniature door within
a door? Yawning—she returns tired.
There is no empathy, only urgency
in your trembling whines. She reaches
for the leash, leaving the way open, release
from bondage, the Red Sea parts, you dart
a false charge, a biker swerves into parked car.
Circling you survey: your own brand of justice.
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