Thursday, June 2, 2011

All My Fenders Remembered

A discard which dredged up some discards of my own

She had yellow fenders on her bike, and would ride around the neighborhood urging me to ignore my mom calling me for dinner. Tom-boy? Bad influence? Troublemaker? All those, I'm sure, at summer's end, pulling me away from the rules and toward the early evening turning to a late daylight saving's time night. To go do what? Ride the trails around the lake in the dusk, go and climb the fence to the swimming pool, go kick over garbage cans and maybe ding dong ditchit the less-liked classmates during dinnertime. Oh those yellow fenders riding off down the street away from home, calling to me, c'mon JR, let's ride, mom calling the other way, normal hunger against the other hunger. Oh c'mon JR, summer's almost done, let's just ride. Freckles, sunburn, curly hair. Derisive laughter at my leaning toward adherence to the rules of summer: curfew, dinner time, come when called, tell us where you're going, against let's stay out way past dark, the other hunger is stronger and I don't need dinner, I never did like coming when called, and I myself don't even know where we're going, I'm just following the "C'mon JR let's ride," following the yellow fenders until after dark. Knowing there will be, let's say it, hell to pay later at home. But: there's now, and the end of summer, and the girl with the freckles, sunburn, and curly hair, and I'll ride anywhere this night. Get up. Go ride.


  1. Trevor, also I wonder why someone would throw out a perfectly good fender.


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