My Brother's Bike

A perfect summer day and
I will triumph over
 my brother's bike.

It's too tall and has that extra bar -
you know the one I'm talking about.
The excruciating boys' bar 
that I will struggle with today
and perhaps the rest of my life.

Rolled out - training wheels gone
I am determined, wobbly,
...and I am down.
Barely two houses past my start,
but I will not be beaten.

Me, of the 'pleasingly plump' variety,
me, of the 'smart little girl' variety,
me, of the 'baby of the family' variety,
still believing those are good things.

I climb on again -
my toes barely touching the ground
and begin to pedal slowly, 
then faster and faster, 
past Crabby Appleton's house
glorifying in my success, elated!
I see curb ahead, 
and psyching myself out
attempt the turn, fearful,
...and I am down. 
Ouch! Shoot!

Quickly I look  around, 
already more afraid
 of looking bad
then of the actual pain 
I'm experiencing.
My knee is bloodied, throbbing,
but I will not be beaten.

Now, one whole side 
of the block is gone, 
and I am passing houses 
I only know the backs of
from walking the top of the fence
behind my own, 
and I am triumphant!

Until I crash into a fence covered
in roses - fragrant roses, 
that tear at my limbs, 
yet one leg stays on the ground
and tip-toed, seeking, pushes off 
and I am my way home, 
riding like a pro.

When I get there 
my brother growls 
what are you doing 
with my bike?
Riding it, I assert,
until I have my own.