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The Risks of Rollerblading

"Christ on Roller Skates!" he yelled,
as he shot down the narrow street
his wheels upon the pavement,
rolling death strapped to his feet
and as he hurtled ever faster
through the streets of Syracuse,
he thought, perhaps, a moment more
would be enough excuse
to postpone plans, dismantle dreams
("Look out!" careening drivers scream)
as his feet roll through the streets today,
his mind a million miles away.

The risk, he thought, is scarcely real
and death-- a bittersweet appeal
compared to thoughts of life stretched thin
too many years of dried drum-skin
not fit to beat, no rhythm left
all timing gone, alone, bereft.
He tears up streets at dangerous speeds
he twists, he turns, he skates, he flees
the nightmare locked inside his head
his only lover cold and dead
yet walking still upon the streets
and talking (yes, just not to him).

But wheels can offer no escape
nor scant relief from gnawing pain.
No speed was ever fast enough
no matter how he stride and strain
in vain... to get away, to half-forget
to take up her old lover's bet
the game they played when they felt close
to guess who would leave, and who would lose
the most if he were left alone
(or she, if she were not made of stone
that cannot feel the wind and rain
nor rubbing feet of moving feet).

The skater's pain upon the street
of sweating brow and flying wheels
to outrun love, that worst of fears
that preys upon us late at night
too scared to run, too weak to fight.

No heartfelt sob would bring her back
no guilt trips left, no panic attack
only empty days and lonely minds
where once were two hearts intertwined.

So blades and speed are what remain
a mild deathwish-- (no pain, no gain)
and the skater flees his final thought:
I love, I want, I need, I ought--

S C R E E C H!

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NOTE: The author of this poem in no way endorses any of the practices described in the preceding lines, including but not limited to rollerblading, rollerblading through traffic, or trying to include the practice of rollerblading in an otherwise mediocre, sappy, I've-lost-my-girlfriend-but-I'm-such-a-loser-I-can't-deal-with-it poem.