Concrete Ramps

The fissure that

jutted up between

each cement slab

made a slight ramp for

this chubby boy to hoist

his bicycle up just a few

inches. The angle of the corner

blocked his few of the fat man rounding

it just enough that when he strained and pulled

his burgeoning biceps the front wheel, shining in

all of its glorious shining chrome that whirred and

reflected the tops of trees and the car tires it whizzed by,

landed squarely in the fat man’s crotch. The tire wedged between

his belly and what was hidden by years of overeating, held in space

and time if only for enough time for the chubby boy to peer into a possible into

future.