Flash Floods  by Nancy Schatz Alton

I trace the spaces this life has made in me:

the way the underpass, bereft of water

feels to my running feet

how once the running stopped

the orange bike arrived & I rode

how I rode in the basement

a new path

unlike the path I made on my more-better-blues

blue bike that I rode between my apartment & Peter’s house:

between discomfort and comfort

the spaces we hold for each other in this life

open & close: slammed shut or whispered endings

we see them in the rear view mirror

Boulder’s cement path made for water

flash floods that come & go

arid & wet: its flowers as startling as the phone:

hung up & done

every ending full of grief: a flash flood

erupts from songs crossing my path

sing it with me: I trace the spaces this life has made in me:

blessings & curses add up to these still swaying hips

these strong legs spinning an orange bike’s wheel:

stationary & still, still (often joyfully) moving on.