Goggle Man

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It is the last uphill –

my face flushed; the sun is all akimbo in the trees.

Bike pulls against slope and those tendons those joints

that until now laid under skin uncomplaining 

tell me how they are in flickers of pain 

pushing up then pulling down gravity unrelenting –

when the goggle man appears flowing downhill like river falls

he is henchman to the hill pull;

is the harbinger of summit –

he almost wears a cape 

and he never smiles.

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