Sometimes it would be three o'clock

and we would stop somewhere

like a windowless cafe

with an old carpet that smells like a dog

dust would fill the air

and even the tea would be bad

then we would hit the road again

pedaling in the wind

a taste of blood in the mouth

mosquitoes on the teeth

memories would finally be tired

and we could go to bed

*first posted in March 2020, edited in March 2022