No hands!

late march and BAM spring. holy shit. this is it.
this is really it. do you see? i'm not imagining this.

this happens every year? are you serious?
this is outstanding. doesn't always feel this good.

sidewalks rising to meet my feet,
babies shouting out "HI" and doling out smiles.
lovebirds - ACTUAL lovebirds - riding in a buzzy wheelchair ahead.
old white haired men in barbershops, opining openly, sneaking little glances at the skirts strolling by.

adults on bikes, seven years old again.
seven year olds on bikes, proud chins guiding them far far far from those training wheels- never needed them anyway, not really.

and you, who taught yourself. cheeky boy. on your bike alone, falling and bouncing up.
working to that moment when they'd see you- riding fast and furious all at once.
Look At Him Go!- since when does he...? "holy shit" they'd whisper
and say again "look at him go".

faster than i can imagine.
gone. in the best possible way. dead gone. cheeky boy.