It was as if I were a mirror.
When you pedaled
my legs became wheels.
When you braked
my knees clenched.
When you smiled
my teeth whitened by twenty years.
Now you can climb Chapel Hill
and you thought you didn't have a prayer.
All year you have been climbing through pants,
shooting out of sleeves.
How time speeds as we turn
older, to another gear, then disappears,
as you mirror me on my first bike,
toward Sandy Beach, pedaling for broke.