My Best Friend



Back in the day,
My best friend was a shiny gold bike
With five speeds and a banana seat.

She was powered by the twin pistons
Of matchstick legs pumping endless
Twinkie-filled energy.

Anyone else saw a child’s bike,
But she was anything I thought of
And everything I’d dreamed about.

She was my private roller coaster
Down the steep, narrow paths
Of Clifton Park’s apartments.

Past the schoolyard grounds,
I was “all that,” cruising by
In my sleek, slick Cadillac.

The alleys were uncharted worlds,
Waiting for me and my rocket ship
To explore their mysterious passages.

Above all else,
She was my friend
When no one else would be.

Who needed to conquer the world
When my bike and I had one
Of our very own?

© 2005 by Robert E. Blackwell