Walking on the sidewalk
lately has made me feel like
a tin duck in a shooting gallery:
when will the next sidewalk biker
be awarded his giant stuffed panda
as I lie groaning on the pavement?
Must I duckwalk like a prisoner
glancing neither to left nor right
lest such frivolity
carry me into the trajectory
of a careless cyclist?
Sidewalks are for walking
yet ringing the bell
before he overtakes me
seems never to occur to these
silent interlopers
who should be on the road.
Oh for the good old days
when kids clothespinned cardboard
to clack on the spokes
or actually stayed in traffic
taking their own chances
in their own Russian game.
