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go adorned

Driven by lack or
leisure, what strikes
the lavender
bicycle as odd
is freedom: no lock
in this girl’s hands, no
expectation he’ll
be waiting, even.

She seems to
know what it’s like
being silent in a country
where the backs of trucks say
Use Horn OK Please.
The two of them swerve.
Life has made them mute
and uninhibited.

Not to say that she is
perfect. Dawdles &
the kickstand irks her,
doesn’t hold weight.
Today she leans him
(softly) up against
the Maharajah’s
Cadillac, goes in.