Bike Ride

I push the pedals and roll out of the driveway, bumping gently up and down as I ride toward the solid, new concrete of Eleven Mile. The sun is yet to set in the west, and I can see the shadows of the world grow longer, I become a ten foot giant in the eyes of the sun. I roll on down into Huntington Woods a.....woodsy area. The tree canopies bend down, dark shapes touching the sky. They are everywhere, making the world seem dark, but appearing kind at the same time, a nice, cool, reassuring feeling.
I ride toward the zoo, letting my worries and unhappiness blow away with the gentle wind that caresses me. I ride down a winding street, and get glimpses of zoo goers, of lemurs, camels, and giraffes. I see the bear fountain pumping out water that glistens like tiny prisms in the setting sun. I continue to ride, and feel a cool sensation overwhelming, and smile to myself.
I continue along the winding path until I hear the roar of the freeway. I inhale exhaust and fumes from cars, and the sent of fresh grass disappears. I am now riding next to Woodward, riding along the zoo until Woodward turns into 696. I turn along with the sidewalk, passing under the parking structure. I continue on west, the zoo walls next to me, and the cars on my left side. I am riding toward the setting sun, the never-dying eye of God. It grows weaker as it goes onto the next side of the world, soon to be replaced by God's right eye. The glorious moon.
I realize that I may never stop riding, I don't want to. I want to keep the image of the orange and blue in my head forever.
I turn then, back toward the east, which grows darker and darker by the second. I ride and ride, streamlining myself so that I fly on by, my leg muscles flexing as I feel the wind against my chest. I pass by everything once more, not going back into the now haughty woods. I continue to pedal, seeing the street were Tristan lives. I wonder what he would think if I just showed up there right then and there. I wonder how hard it would be to resist the temptation to just turn down his street and ride on down toward him. Summer is over, but I don't want it to be. It's too soon, school is already in, and I don't want to go on without him. I want to see his face every day like I used to, I want him to feed my senses like he always does. I pass by his street, and continue down toward mine. I could fall in his arms right now, any time I would. But I have the strength to breathe on my own. I have the strength to be my own.
An ambulance seers by at the speed of light, my ears splitting from he echoing siren. I wonder if he can hear it too. I wonder if he wonders if I can hear it. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. Maybe he's in his own world right now.
My street is approaching, and I turn down it, toward the west, were the orange and the blue form the milky indigo that looks so much like the setting sun in my painting for Tristan. An incomplete work of art that I have to finish by the 16th. I have no doubt I will.
The way the sky looks, is so unrealistic, I swear I fall in love. The sky is always perfect, no matter what. It always finds a way to look beautiful. Each time in a different way.
I approach my home, the sun almost gone.
I pull into the driveway and my bike ride ends, I look at the calming lavender sky one last time, the color that reminds me of love.
I put my bike away and enter my house. I turn on the radio and the ceiling fan spins slowly above my head. I look outside, to see a pitch black sky, the beads of my curtains reflecting a dark blue image back at me. I look outside to see the forms of the trees, and the light dark blue west. I take one last look, then close my blinds. I turn off the music and I lay in my bed. I close my eyes for the last time for the day and I fall into sleep.