LEGENDS OF FREEDOM

Stephen Gibson

I wear orange lenses in my sunglasses
And these shoes of blue leather
And every day I stuff my duct-taped bag with envelopes
Design-plans videos and the crushed petals of flowers to ride hard
Through traffic
Down the long avenues
Past blaring horns and shouting security men
And in the evenings I listen
To the wind whispering in the trees
So I can write you love poems
Then follow them through the city to find you
Up elevators
Then down the several escalators
I drift alone through mezzanines
Taking the back door to the side street alleyways unlocking
My bike as I call in and call out and call on and on
With the dispatcher's voice always behind me
Cracking jokes or remembering secret addresses
From the cobwebs of years
He forms the jobs from other people's needs
Directs the packages to outstretched hands or empty desks
Where I toss the rush and leave
Riding again through tunnels and corkscrewing up ramps and
Always returning to this skyline of towering buildings
That raise their lights floor
By floor over the darkening world of errands while I
Try keeping my wheels pointed toward some majesty
I insist must still be out there
Some beautiful mystery still present
Among bus stop shelters and the closed cafes
And I will only nod when you try to tell me
That what I want is already all inside of me
Fine I'll say
But this is how I get there