You hitch a ride with a cyclist. You sit in back

and hold on. He’s leading in a race. With you

on the cycle he slows down and others pass.

You say to him, “Faster. You’ll lose.” He says

“I’m thinking of food.” You drift a sleepy canal

on a barge, warm horses on the bank, sweep

of grass to trees the wind and light bend

far off in warm air. The water barely moves.

It will take months to cruise home. You snarl

at a horse, “I’m running out of time.”

The cyclist goes by. He yells, “I’m winning.”

You try to yell “Wait” but choke. He goes on.

You are mayor of a town. The people bring

you their problems. You give advice from

your window. You cannot remember

the canal. You ask, “How did I get here?”

Someone calls you to dinner. You try

and try to remember the cyclist’s name.