Hold your breath until you turn blue in the face, complain until the world is just the way you want it, then change your mind. I changed my mind, I take it back. Let me start over. Like the soccerplayer kicking a ball around just because he can, a show off I'd like to tell you a story about May in 2003, or perhaps one about fall of 2001 instead. They're almost the same.
The rattling sound of a bikechain badly in need of oil and the rythm of cobblestones through my cells. Slower tones in my ears than the pedals give away and I float and soar just slightly over those sounds. Here's looking at you kid. Can you see your face in the puddles of water when you rush by?
It was getting really cold and the sun had vanished for a while. I didn't long for the warmth, I was warm instead. This is where May differs from fall. With May the swallows hold promises of a long summer that usually just rains away. So fall is a bit better anyway. You expect the rain and everything else is a bonus.
So let's decide it was fall. Yes, that sounds good. Where was I? Oh yes, rain and sun and such. My coat was black, black like the pavement, black as my soul. That last bit was a joke, come on, I know you were expecting it. But it wasn't. It really wasn't. And if it was it was because it was a black hole that had absorbed all the light surrounding it. Was my soul black or wasn't it? It doesn't really matter now anyway. It's a fond memory, if I hold my hands out where the handlebars should be placed I can still feel it, and if I peer my eyes I can still feel the watering from the wind beating at them.
It was usually windy you see, there by the sea. The wind would blow through bone and marrow. I didn't mind. I didn't mind that either. I didn't mind the dark afternoons, the cold and gushing winds, the shaking of my bike to make me shiver, I was just in a good place.
Sing me those sad songs, I miss those days when I didn't have time to listen but did anyway. Are you feeling the cobblestones in your May or November?
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