The Bike
The night street was eerily empty. A dandelion of orange lamp lights superimposed a number of fading shadows, magically breathing into a gradation, like a drop of ink mushrooming in a glass of water. A suburban solitude rested in silence. Inebriated and swaggering into the darkness on the yellow lane separator of the road, I came to the end where the naked seedlings coughed. I pitied their poor souls for living in the clouds of smoke and exhaust. Long foregone the gossamer days, at the flower bed, the golden buds of trumpet trees were washing their crown on the concrete with the cold autumnal raindrops. November withdrew for a moment from the oppressive darkness, and my breath barely escaped, becoming part of the night air. I waited for the first snow to cover the streets with a white blanket.
I sweated on my ribs from a startling circulation. On the way home, around a corner, there was an empty lot of questionable intentionality with only three trees and a bench. It was a small, nameless park I loved. The park was a forest and the bench a trunk. Lifting my chin, I could see the purple stars under the reassuring shades of the trees. Habitually, I rolled a coin in my pocket.
Stars are the glass beads nailed on the universe. Perchance, crafted by Spinoza.
I decided to go to Monte Berico. The hill road was steep and high. Once reached atop, one could see the whole city with a bird’s eye. It was a popular place for dating; often, a parking car rattled.
A gust blew. Somewhere I could breathe a terrible stench. I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. Instantly, from afar, the grating metals rhythmically squeaked. In the silence, I could hear so sensitively to the frightful bombardments. My heart beat fast. The shadowing lamplights undulated busily like stormy waves. It was coming to me. Near. Overcome by curiosity, I defensively turned around. Ripping apart the darkness, it was driving the Chariot of Death toward me. Breathlessly, I couldn’t help but root my feet to the ground and watch Destiny come to me. It was climbing the hill slightly faster than on foot. As it got closer, it revealed itself under the orange light.
Alas, it was bizarreness himself on a bike.
To have a better look, I stepped into the car lane. Finally, I could see the complete picture of the mystery.
It was a living death, the unearthly denizen surveying out of the dappled underworld.
Armless and décharné. Its nose was marauded like the fall of Rome. The endless abyss was situated in its eyes like those of a skeleton. Like burns, its dark and abraded skin was hideous and revolting. Half of its face was covered with dirty bandages. It had some rumpled hair, slightly better than a carcinogenic. I’ve never seen such a hopeless being. It pedaled regularly with its firm yet emaciated legs, without any sign of panting. His bandages blew backward in the wind.
It soon passed me and disappeared into the darkness. All it left behind was an unwashable consternation and the lingering stench. It was surreal. Like the hand of a soldier who committed murder for the first time, I shuddered there for a long time. I absorbed this scenery entirely, using all my senses from my eyes, nose, and ears to the point where I felt stung somewhere. After the divertissement, in the chilling listlessness, I collapsed on the spot, unable to move for a long time.
