Biking Alone

//biking alone

Riding Alone

Blotchy black on white,
her sweet young face
smiles over its message:

“Missing a week, help us look.”

I read the sign beside
the electronic door of the bookstore,
remembering how while on a moped
once on a steep hill a white
pick-up truck swerved towards me,
forcing me to the side of a
stony, sandy bank which went
almost straight down. Two
smiling faces looked at me
while by the grace of God I
stayed on the road.

A friend biked alone by the side
of the road beside the sea when a car
passed her, stopped, backed up,
knocked her down, broke her leg,
then drove away.

Now I feel sick, wondering why she
biked alone, possibly through the dark
redwood forest around hairpin corners,
beside sheer drop offs,
her muffled voice calling for help,
her bicycle hidden in thick brush,
a killer exulting as he drove away.