metal frame

now for an outline
this is the turning curve of
the wheels of a bicycle,

their spokes a spider's
web of late-night conversations,
intense eye contact
a quickening heartbeat
and my favorite, the
chest rising and falling.
cool air washing warm skin.

on to the blue metal frame
yolk of handlebars
that holds up nimble,
burning muscle with ease.
admired for the strength
it has to do so

across the circle
to where he walks the bike
like a woman on his arm,
slender and elegant

all he needs yet is a tuxedo
and a clear cocktail;

every one an apparition
to everyone but me