Blue Bikes & Bumblebees

There’s something about a bike.
Your very own get-away vehicle even when getting away means pedaling faster than your little brother down the Avenue you call home.
To the end of the road where they are building a tiny new street with 3 houses.
No one lives there yet. The houses aren’t ready. One arrived on the back of a truck.
No one is ever home on this end of the street.
Or maybe they are and they just never come outside. Maybe they watch from inside.
One time someone walked down the Avenue and said, “Good afternoon young man!” to me.
But I am not a boy. Mama cut my hair, while I sat on a folding chair, under the acorn tree out back.
My secret hide out is behind the evergreen hedge.
(The pretty flowery bushes have huge fuzzy bumblebees, I’ve been stung before).
This blue bike looks like my first bike. It makes me smile.
The girls ride in front and lead the way, pedaling like pony-tailed Olympians.
CAR! I shout so they can hear with their helmets strapped on tight. Stay close to the side!
There is no real end to this street. It cuts through to the main bypass.
Construction workers zoom past on huge dump trucks and usually don’t stop at the stop sign.
I wonder who can buy all these new houses. Going up beside the deserted one. With papers taped on the door and waist high grass.
I wish they could bike down the Avenue. Right down the middle, arms in the air, safe and sound.
But this will have to suffice. I’m not taking this freedom away.
There’s something about a bike…