Evolution (with Tania P)

Perhaps the bicycle, perched in evolution between horse and car, allows a girl the modest means to ride just far enough away from home to leave home, to revel in the panicked flit of geckos into underbrush and the daisies expiring in patterned versions of their former selves, petals curling groundward on the very stalks that pushed them sunwards.

Maybe the bicycle wheels, larger than dinnerplates, spin off wordlessly into the air as they continue to evolve, growing in diameter the further from earth they fly, ultimately encircling distant planets with delicate, orbiting rings – just as we are encircled without beginning or end, without sides or corners, with all points equidistant from the center, by that which grows old gracefully – a bouquet of fiery petals risen from the mud which once sheltered striped lizards peering out from a crack in the wall, right angles framing the curve of their tails.