Jutta Vinzent
In my dream we are
still riding to Mortain
the wind from Saint Malo
fresh upon our backs
“There are no tailwinds
Only headwinds and good days”
Trees shade the greenway
the packed earth is smooth enough
we see dog walkers
the occasional woman on a horse
This is as sweet a ride
as we have ever made
In the dream I am still alive
and she has not yet learned
about the crab within my bones
My bike always rolls faster than hers
I ride too close and must fall back
Over the years my love has
ripened to a perfect tenderness
The kilometres tick down
It is not too far now to our auberge
Tomorrow Alençon and then the farm
a short drop south
to Vendôme and the Loire
But in my dream we are riding to Mortain
and I do not want ever to arrive