The Sixth Lap

A dark, dark night in the neighborhood
Where four left turns make a lap.
On a bike with 21 speeds, in 21st gear.
A fast pace, rushing through warm summer’s air.     
Squeezing tight on cushioned grips.

First lap finished now five laps more.
Wheels keep spinning, stop signs be damned.

Labored breath with pedals hard to turn.
Will and determination fight fatigue.
With calories to burn the harder the better. 
A stubborn belly that wont go away.
Sweat, exertion, a familiar pain in the knee, thighs burning.

Second lap finished now four laps more.
Wheels keep spinning, stop signs be damned.

Fear of what darkness hides:
A pothole, a branch, a parked car.
No helmet for protection.

Third lap finished now three laps more.
Wheels keep spinning, stop signs be damned.

In one yard, a dark silhouette, cigarette glowing.

Forth lap finished now two laps more.
Wheels keep spinning, stop signs be damned.

Leaning hard through a turn
Where water puddles the road.
A chill down the spine while passing over,
No helmet for protection.

Fifth lap finished now one lap more.
Wheels keep spinning, stop signs be damned.

On the road they turn with headlights glaring bright
Do they see the bike with no reflectors
On this dark, dark summer’s night?

No helmet.
Lap six will never come.