at the top of the hill <br />before Eyre Square, <br />the sun was shining <br />in this wet November. <br /> <br />the damp road was like a lake; <br />sunlight was spilling everywhere, <br />like sparkling paint, <br />and rising into the air <br />like evaporating gold. <br /> <br />this glowing vastness <br />enveloping the world before me. <br /> <br />i smiled, <br />it almost blinded me, <br /> <br />i changed into top gear, <br />and sped into the void. <br /> <br />i felt like I was disappearing. <br /> <br />i imagined the workers on their lunch breaks, <br />and the shoppers, <br />stopping in their tracks, <br />dropping their bags and briefcases, <br />in awe of this urban God <br />cycling down from heavenly light; <br />presenting himself <br />to the mere mortal pedestrians <br />and, perhaps, <br />about to share his wisdom. <br /> <br />they didn’t, though, of course; <br />they just carried on as usual. <br /> <br />perhaps one or two saw me by chance; <br /> <br />a stupid student, <br />cycling down the hill too fast; <br />smiling in the rain.<br /><br />Sean Godley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/urban-god/
