Riding, riding, riding.

Riding, riding, riding.

Riding, riding, riding, crash.

Just going along, on two wheels yet. Just going along and thinking about courses, but trying not to think at all.

Just going along, repeating your legs, trying to cycle further, and minding your own business--generally.

Just going along, and of course the red light has let up, but since you're going along, you want to keep going. The inertia thing. So you do, and--unthinking--you, who has finally accomplished what you have set out to accomplish (i.e. lack of thought and pleasant meditation) are subject to the harshness of a crash.

A lucky crash over the edge of the cement onto your palms, now blood-stained. You think? Yes, but only about your blood-stained palms and what a close call it was. You think that you would have screamed at the driver, but that you sort of appreciated the wake-up notice.

Wake up.

Ringing, ringing, ringing.

Ringing, ringing, ringing.

Ringing, ringing, ringing, "Hello?"

The message from the night before might have clued you in, but you were expecting a call from someone else. So when he said, "Hi. This is a good friend of [your friend who died this summer in a car crash]," you didn't have much to say in reply.

Of course, he hadn't expected anything, and how were you to know what to say to the death (crash) of a friend (crash) now that the friend (crash) was no more (crash).

You were the intermediary in a sort of seance between him and his friend. Mutual conversation.

Out of nowhere it arises, and back to nowhere it goes.