The creak of broken brakes and
the soft whoosh of bicycle wheels
lift up lazy dogs’ heads
as we slip through the night.
Blinking red lights announce the arrival
of the thunderstorm of a train pounding past,
the rhythmic thudding echoing with
our pulsing hearts,
pumped full of exhilaration,
a drug that makes us pedal faster,
round and round empty lots,
our hands lifted recklessly in the air,
our eyes reflected, full of light.
As the train pulls away,
the empty night, stars masked by the scintillating city,
receives our worries and confessions,
covered up by the train’s screaming whistles.