Poem 20150128

more than halfway to school
the path slick
with a half-hearted
california frost
the front tire turns
just the right way
to stop the bike

i slide
not as graceful as a luge
and turn, tumbling
i feel the knees
of my pants rip
chewed through by the
asphalt that seemed
smooth and icy
but was just a disguised
set of black teeth

when i stand again
my palms and knees bloody
both hot and cold
i wonder if i should turn back
or press on, muddy and damaged

i do not remember now
what i chose