Where have I been? Mostly on my bike.
Rolling with small escapes, symbolic gestures at running away.
Putting skinny tires on high hopes for big changes.
Kicking the old overcharged brain into idle, given its exhaustion from the fumes of going around the same old track of worries.
Shaking up the imagination, hoping to rouse it from its slumber from under the duvet stuffed with the feathers and down shed by so many failed projects that flew south … or north. Anywhere but nest here.