I want the lifestyle change where I spend nothing and smile in a blanket of dirt. I want to be increasingly serene and satisfied. Vans and bicycles.
I have a nest of bees in my taillight. My van sits dirty and neglected. It's still a house on wheels, but this machine and I have grown apart.
I inflated the tires of my Raleigh Twenty and got a ride to the 104 bus in the family minivan. I'm leaving Kennett and getting back to the city. My parents treated me to lunch, some expensive Keen sandals, and a bag of discounted groceries. Now they're sending me back into the real world. Their boy is headed to the big city in a big blue bus. A tiny bicycle rides up front.
I was jostled to alertness near the last stop. I was startled to realize it was now raining and I don't know what to do about the glaring awareness that I am alive. It seems like celebration is in order, but the raindrops call this logic into doubt.
I rode a tiny bicycle to Center City where Tara works. I watched her pull up a few monochrome windows of coded information about flights and times. When she is done booking vacations for clients, we will retire to bed. I will hold her close. If I am lucky, a flicker of Philadelphia reality will come into focus, and I will feel like I am home.