numbers

i break over the top of the hill and sweep into the turn, feeling the warm air as i leave the canopy of redwoods. standing on the corner is an old man, in the most beautiful blue sweater; his hair unkempt and gray, soaring through the wind. he holds on his left hand a small white bird, that as i look back over my shoulder flies off into the sky. it is a snowflake rising up, a wooden boat upon the water. white like the missing teeth of girls we kiss in our dreams. i stop and watch as it drifts further into the blue eternity, and think of my own forthcoming flight. we are all birds inside no?

and my legs felt strong. they have become the center of my physical movement replacing even the slight gestures of hand. saturday i rode 101 miles which seemed so terribly far. i had my moments of relative despair, but overall felt grand. thankfully, i felt less tired upon my arrival home after 101 than i did the previous weekend of 90. all of these numbers in my head.

90. 101. 200. 15. 16. 1. 31. 33. 25. 3. 9.

they all mean so much. they are my new secret language, my tunnel of the night. a tunnel of light. i sit typing and hear the mail drop. paper to ground. i like the flat sound it makes.

Posted by jeff pitcher at March 22, 2004 01:19 PM

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