Raleigh, carry me to the river

Standing in a green grassy field
in the frigid cold morning
just off the 275 ramp in downtown Knoxville
and west Baxter ave
dew frozen on the blades of grass
kept mowed by the city
overlooking the Beaumont projects
on the sloping hills
at 4 am
tire shops
Mexican taco shops
scary looking tacos with eyes
arms
drawn on the side of the building
yellow street lights burning
giving off the faintest light
making out the houses in disrepair
the blight

i think to myself if i can clock enough hours a week
i can keep myself from being here

i hop back on my bicycle
pedalling
chain chattering

it's 31 degrees
my breath takes off from my mouth
like ghosts
rising into the air
the cold wind cuts open my chest
splits through the fibers of my gloves
as i peel down huge hills
over rail road tracks

a black man sat out on his porch
smoking a cigarette
watching me take the hill like a bunker
attacking
storming up the side at full speed

i pass west view park
where my aunt Sasha's childhood friend Christy
was dragged off into the woods and raped
i'd like to imagine the neighborhood is a different place now
i'd be lying to myself
if i said it didn't bother me
and run through my mind when i pass

still pitch black
i like passing cemetery's at night
only one lit up
with a single light on a hill
lighting up
bouncing off hundreds of headstones
making out half of last names in the shadows
marble
granite
bronze
iron
amazing statues of Angels weeping
wings watching over the dead
passing into the after life
throwing themselves over sarcophagus
like hero's and gunfire

i wave as i pass just in case anyone's watching

passing Keith ave
to Liberty street
finally onto Middlebrook
where the traffic is crazy to ride with
going 50 miles per hour +
and the sidewalks jump from
one side of the street to the other
in the drop of a hat

i pass the Pepsi cola bottling plant
640
the KUB utility offices
i swing my hands back every so often
just to make sure my panniers are still there
not slung off from the dips and bumps

there's a really amazing
faded brick
turn of the century
federal style house
on one untouched block of land
between 3rd creek road and Knott road
surrounded by all of these massive fuel plants
thousands of gallons of gas
coming and going 24/7
they plant a small crop of corn most every year
a little slice of heaven among
the horrors of environmental deforestation

i pass a hundred or more businesses on my route

a row of 15 +low hanging branch trees
i barley clear
ducking on my bicycle
waiting to be clotheslined

Doctors Unger's office at Dowell Springs
i maybe see once a year
i'm in good health for now

a closed down Ginos pizza
i know i could have ran that store like a champ
i find enjoyment making pizza in a shop

Shannondale nursing home
3 or 4 stories tall
where your family members send you to die
i worked with a guy at Bearden Papa Johns
when i was the assistant manager
name of John Ruch
both of his parents were sent there
and died
he was a crack addict
drove a baby blue Buick
and a super political person
said he wanted to mail Nancy Pelosi a fart
i guess he hated Democrats
crazy fuckers probably dead now

i pass mega churches
with people that could give a shit less about
the poor
downtrodden
helpless
they count their collection plates in their
massive compounds
adding sports complexes
bible study rooms
breathtaking to think of what they could have spent that money on

it's garbage if you ask me

flying down through Westborough
purple and crimson leaves cover the sidewalk
making it a test of faith

i steady my hands
wait for the slightest drop
just in case i have to pull up
hopping sidewalk gaps
broken
busted

i get to the bottom unscathed
they fixed the breaks since the last time i rode it

as i pass Fox Lonas NW i realize
my fingers are starting to go numb
i'll have to wear better gloves next ride

when i pass Cedar Bluff in the early morning it's ok
but on a Friday during rush hour back...
it's the Bermuda triangle of death for cyclists

a gauntlet if you will
the Odyssey and  Odysseus comes to mind
because NOBODY knows what it's like
until they pass through it's corridor

i weave in and out of bulky plastic mail boxes
concreted in the middle of the sidewalks
my bike light just peering over the black basket
gives the silhouette for a football masks guard
casting out into the nights sinking blackness

the moon is nowhere to be seen

the sidewalk finally drops into a easy ramp
that floods into this wide shoulder
that is Hardin Valley road

perfect for commuting
if only the rest of Knoxville was

i finally make it to Cherahala
after a 2 hour ride
i settle for small victories this day

something warm to eat will suffice