Yesterday, I was biking to a friend's house in Bushwick. Along this bike ride, lovely thing that it was with the sun out and the heat of summer setting in, patches of shade appreciated in a way they often are not, I, a bit buzzed on coffee, started to recite out loud the bits of poetry that I have memorized. It did not amount to much. Some Whitman, some Millay, and some Stevens. A couple of lines from others: Blake, Eliot, Olds.
I need to memorize more. Those lines take on a special rhythm when said while in motion on a bicycle, one that seems somehow more appropriate, better matched, to the lines.
I am good at making these resolutions, saying I need to do this and that I will start doing that, but not nearly as good on following through with these resolutions. Tuesday, the day I turned 26, I did resolve to quit smoking, and so far have held to this.
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