a white furry kitten

and they kissed again

again as he crested the

climb again, alone,

ahead, now ahead, and

the earth dropped away,

the road was a ribbon,

tucked under his belly,

sweeping down they

passed him, crashing

everywhere—when they

went up again he

fished for a low gear,

and looked down

at his chain, someone

was next to him. They

had to get off, sling

their bikes on their should-

ders and climb the

cracks in the wall

street with their fingers,

and toes they climbed

over a car whose red hood

was imbedded with stone

it had become part

of the street at the top

they waited for him

to pull his shoelace

clear of the cogs—

then terrified they

swooped down stair-

ways—alleys, side-walks,

their wheels clattering—

again they crashed

off to both sides—

"fallen," he heard a voice

say, "fallen," and

pick the odds 28 to 1

for Navy when

the streets were

wet and he took

the inside through

a curve—someone

was ahead out of

sight and the rest

hung back afraid to

crash, yes they all

wanted him to hit

a pedestrian, he

woke up without her,

he had to pee

and the handlebar

had been jarred off

center when he crossed

the stairs so he

twisted his arms

against the bar as

he leaned over squeezing

the stem straight—

she said she had sold

her house and the

white kitten wanted

to return to the

elevator at the uni-

versity with eight

siblings and its mother

clawing him until he

let go; she said

nothing and they were

together in long short

silence echoing fallen

and the street was

white and storefronts

were clean, even the

pedestrians were clean,

as the cameras clicked,

he rolled over in bed,

missed her and got a

pillow, and swallowed

hard luck; how could

the cyclists go sideways

like skaters, they all

wanted to know why

they crashed and

stopped worrying about

each other long enough

too long and came

in the TV window to;

someone’s livingroom

with voices calling

back old times, she

was younger then, was

it hard to sell good art?

To laugh? Then, then,

allow him to introduce

‘82, "fallen," said a voice,

"fallen."

1982

All Rights Reserved S. Lansky