Banana Seat Bike

You came to me in a dream last night.

No longer the youthful 20 somethings, we both had aged. 

You were dating a known gay comedian.

I was unhappily married.


We planned to meet for drinks.


I remembered one of our first dates.

We went to a punk bar and drank ourselves under the table.

You offered to escort me home.

Outside the bar, I expected a car.

Instead you unchained a vintage banana seat bike.

He asked me if I could pedal.

I tried my hardest.

We didn't make it two feet.

Courteously you took over and let me ride in back.

You pedaled fast and furiously.

I buried my face into your back, passing onlookers.


You smelled like cedar and cigarettes. 

I wrapped my hands around your waste and noticed the glowing moon.


It was one of the first times I saw the world through someone else's eyes.

For that I am still eternally grateful.