On closeness - Kelsey Lynn Sivertson

When I chase after you

it's like I'm on my red speedster bicycle

and you,

you are driving a car

and while some of the time

you are this dot

in the distance

most of the time

you are near enough

that I can make out the make

and model of the vehicle you drive

but the moments I live for

are when the sidewalk slopes down

and I see that early enough that I rush my legs forward

and around

over and over again

so that once I hit that downward slope

I can stop pedalling

and focus

on turning to the left

and seeing that for these few seconds

you and I

are right next to each other

and that is when you remind me

I was made in secret

and curiously woven

in the low places

I now speed towards

with you so near

that my reflection is made red and shiny

in the door of your car.