Car Racing at Rush Hour

On my way home from work,

the last two miles of road,
starting at Chicago and 31^st Street -
you’d know the light if you biked here -
I began tailing her.

I took the center of the lane
on my Specialized Allez,
behind a black woman
driving a Ford Escort.

Thirteen blocks, I stuck to her bumper,
running-bra soaked,
mouth parched,
my nose – invaded by fumes.

At the red light, 1^st Av. and 31^st,
about to turn,
she opened the door and yelled,
“You go, Girl!”
with a grin.

A woman –
not threatening me or hollering
“Get on the sidewalk!”,
“Move your ass over!”.
Thrilled to be tailed for 13 blocks
by a shirtless and sweaty chick on a bike.

This is how I move, how I breathe.

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