number eleven

what can a bicycle
a new story.

instead of frogs she finds a bicycle, oh lord, does it move swiftly and as if without influence
learning some lessons she'll ride over the forest not through it
the poor hungry wolf will have to stalk other lonely doorways
lost in self reflection tumble over little gnomes rounding a wide green pond
one by one they pluck flowers for a sweet song
raising their voices in frightening unison they sing
"one by one by one by one by everyone" the wolf gladly whistling along

meanwhile she lands on the other side of the forest ever gracefully, her bike basket full
in front of a castle, what's this, a moat, and firefish sparking but oh she knows better
rings the doorbell and sets a shy princess smile, why hello, and she is escorted in

untypically inside is actually a garden and she eats what she likes without fear
she swings her arms and loses her shoes in the thick grass and here
enter turbulence, one mad fairy up for a fight, shining here and over here
throwing jinxes and rotten fruit, but then a kiss and all's well again

she'll sleep under a heavy-boughed tree, or awake
a little boy pressed at her knee, what tickles, his hands cupped
and opened around a small green frog, the only thing that love is

until she happens to find a bicycle