With the luxury of summer time
I ride one of my bikes around
the warren of dead ends in Omaha
winding through the web
of sandy walkways
between holiday homes
blank cubist structures and neo-hacienda
many with blinds down
and boats mooching on trailers
being just one weekend option
for those on whom the gods
and lineage have smiled
and past the still-life of a man
in shorts and sunburnt boobs and belly
paused to address his phone
while the baby sleeps in its buggy
and a restless kid rides rings around
a small white dog straining
with arched back and bunched paws.
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