My eyes are drawn

First, to the bike.

Immaculate, sleek, defined. This is the treasure of one who tends, with care. Both helmets perfectly placed, one hanging, as it should, from the handlebar, ready at moment’s notice. The second, lain in wait, nestled securely in cradle, eager for a second rider.

The spokes define the wheels, all aglow, bright silver against black rubber. HONDA, blocked, parallels the concrete slabs below. Decals, lit fire. Acute bumps against obtuse and apexes in a leather cushion, providing an unexpected yet perfect perch.

And so, unexpectedly, he perches, perfectly.

how did he get it so clean on such a sodden day?

Behind him, there’s a collection of less significant bikes. Parked for the hour, perhaps the day. They don’t mean as much.

Lotus is scrawled in rushed, looping black letters, trailing down the narrow white wall.

And I wonder what that might mean.

But, in the end, in this frozen moment in time,

He is what demands my attention.

He sends his gaze downward, greying hair framing his lined face, shadowing his black leather jacket.

is he content

world weary

wondering what is or what might be?


without a doubt, his thoughts are on what was

He balances, safe off the ground. Legs – almost crossed – soles of bare feet touching, arm propped on knee, hands holding him in place, anchored, trenchant. He looks down, and away.

anywhere but here

or now

And I have two questions.

what is he looking at


what has he seen

Published by Radutti

Teaching in Ha Noi, screwing things up daily but surviving to write about it. ...everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?

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  1. You leave us in suspense. I’m drawn to the structure of your story. Whether planned or unplanned, I like the detailed description of the bike and then of him: that frozen moment stretched till the end.
    The use of the word perch as a verb and noun. Thank you Radutti.

    Liked by 1 person

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