there are two roundabouts on Codrington Street, fifty metres apart.

between the first and the second ring on the road, stand two restaurants.

in ‘Buon Gusto’, the emptier of the two, i saw an Asian couple.

together, they studied the menu with shoulders curving forward. over the table, their hands curled, empty for now.

i watched them for two seconds before returning my attention to the road like a good cyclist.

but my thoughts were still with the lovers in the quiet restaurant.

i realize something and say it to myself: “i wanted to weep”.

the emotion tagged me and ran away.

i wanted to weep because this scene that i see with my eyes, in this present time, was as familiar as any number of scenes in my mind’s eye, of a long ago time.

a time before i biked to class, a time before my bike is my horse is my dream is my wings.

i let this realization and these memories do with me what they will. on uphills, over cracked humps that beg after gentleness, i pedal faster.

the sun had left for another continent two hours ago. the moon herself was half-hidden.

the strong winds that had been blowing all day made shaking shadows out of trees and their leaves.

and i, human, made no sound for the night to keep.

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