Face-First Into the Gutter

December 18, 2009
By Anonymous

I am flying like a rocket seeing
blurs of trees, streets, and houses.
My opponent is the only thing in focus.
He is ahead of me, but I am gaining.

Head bowed with strain, I peddle.
The pavement rushes by like a river.
I’d rather die than lose again!
Suddenly, I am overtaking him.

Great exhilaration forces
the blood through my veins.
“You’ll never win!”
my opponent screams
from somewhere far behind.

I laugh out loud as I go faster.
My handle bars wobble
upon acceleration.
I lose control! The bike flies left
as I skid across the street,

face-first into the gutter.
I scream with hate
as my nemesis speeds by.

With the taste of pennies in my mouth,
I spit blood in his direction.
My disappointment is more painful
than my split lip.

The author's comments:
I think this is a poem about childhood.

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