bicycle

by Allison Thung

Exactly when did I get so wary, so overly vigilant I catastrophized seven different ways before attempting anything even slightly risky? She must at least be in hibernation, that incarnation of me who at ten decided the best way to learn how to ride a bicycle was to take off from the top of a hill with nothing but momentum on my side, throwing all caution to the classmate who had offered to hold my bicycle upright, but whose generosity was ultimately no match for my heft. I sure had life all figured out then, certain that triumph lived in eliminating all options but “succeed” and “die trying.” Two lifetimes later, I still recall with absolute clarity the exhilaration that coursed through my entire body as my thick brown hair whipped back from my sweaty face, the way the wind swallowed my well-meaning classmate’s words of assurance or maybe admonishment, and how my sunflower-yellow bicycle flipped right over at the bottom of the hill, sending me crashing to the ground, but only because I had slammed too hard on the brakes to stem the velocity I had gained too quickly, and certainly not before I learned how to maneuver that two-wheeled menace; to ride a bicycle. As I washed the massive oozing scrape on my right knee with murky seawater, bicycle unscathed and leaning against a palm tree, I knew that that was the way I would hope to live forever — with abandon, and without regrets.

Allison Thung is a poet and project manager from Singapore. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in Chestnut Review, ANMLY, Heavy Feather Review, Maudlin House, Lumiere Review, and elsewhere. Find her on Twitter @poetrybyallison or at www.allisonthung.com.