The pendulum shifts.
Man, standing on the glimmering bike
leans out; captain of his ship.
His flattened palm, leaning over eye brow,
watching the horizon
The credits roll higher;
from half sun to yawning moon
on the pendulum. His Afro,
dancing like the gentle sway of palm trees hugging.
assaulted by motion; subject to the stationary wind.
As he cruised through the air,
face still; the captain stare.
We are man standing.
On the pendulum.
not on the swing of the returning momentum,
or from the letdown of time.
A pedestal over which we pose
We are heading back.
Man, standing on bow.
Straight standing as the earth sways.
Thumb twiddling, lips curling to a whistle,
Heels, buried in voyage.
Mind singing in the rain.
We are heading back from the horizon,
to the novelty of plain ol’