Distracted by an Ergonomic Bicycle

Arthur, James (1974)

Original Text

James Arthur. Charms Against Lightning. Port Townsend, Washington: Copper Canyon Press. 2012

1On a rainy morning in the worst year

2of my life, as icy eyelets shelled the street,

3I shared a tremor with a Doberman

4leashed to a post. We two were all the world

5until a bicyclist shot by, riding

6like a backward birth, feetfirst,

7in level, gentle ease, with the season's hard breath

8between his teeth. The rain was almost ice, the sky

9mild and pale. I saw a milk carton bobbing by

10on a stream of melting sleet.

11 A bicyclist. A bicyclist. He rode away—

12to his home, I guess. I went home,

13where I undressed, left my jacket

14where it fell, went straight to bed, and slept

15for two days straight. But those clicking wheels

16kept clicking in my head, and though

17I can't say why, I felt not only not myself,

18but that I'd never been ... that I

19was that man I hardly saw, hurling myself

20into the blast, and that everything

21I passed—dog, rain, cold, the other guy—

22I left in my wake, like afterbirth.

RPO poem Editors

Jim Johnstone

RPO Edition

2013

Special Copyright

Poem used with permission of the author.