Who Is I

A cluttered path,
out
of
courtesy, I call

an audible,
taking it off road, into the train station,

Slinging bike
over
shoulder, into a snow drift

&

over railroad tracks,
unslinging
the

bike off
my

back, heading toward the lights:

Giving a young lady waiting on a train, fragments

of

sights, to see, to take; I would take, if it were me.