on a bike, looking into the setting Berlin sun
Photo by Flo Karr on Unsplash


Whoosh! and you’re off.

A challenge between strangers,
with no word spoken.

You are not yet your mother,
your father in their practical shoes.
You wear your thin jacket
wide open
and it taunts like a red flag.

I am precariously balanced
on the slick track, freezing,
wheezing and careening behind

I see my mother in the fat
of my chin, my father
in the moles that pepper
my skin.

I discover a new one each year.

So I dare to wear my jacket
wide open
and race you through the streets
of Berlin.

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