Circumventing orange cones
Like my feet are on tracks
hearing concrete tones,
as cars stand in stacks
Of traffic lined up on Sixteen Mile.
Driving decisions had been relented
By a detour keeping you, while
I skated by on the newly cemented
Road that was untainted
By tire track marrings
And yellow lines painted,
Too early for tarrings,
This smooth surface gliding
Underneath my wheels.
My memory’s sliding
From how it feels,
But I remember moments of victory
The hockey stopping, curb jumping times that we
Skated ‘cause skating could let us see,
A physical form in complacency.