Until a Christmas
when the crunchy shells
we had eaten
lay on the track
outside our front door
and the hibiscus flower
bloomed in the summer
heat
like a softened earthbound
sun and against
the trellis wall
leaned a bike
with red and white
checkers
cutting through the
bluest air with
tires that pushed
marks into the cool
red clay the
shape of diamonds
fallen from a
pocket.
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