presences

she is there
in my livingroom
strange place for a bike
though she's metal and rubber
people attribute more to that
than to a handshake or a kiss

she resonates in my mind
a silent connection with what can only
be imagined and wished for.
she impersonates, comes to silent steel life,
represents, and–if you won't believe me–
she ultimately, fills some square meters
around me at night at day and every day.

but she cannot decide
she has a mute power
to set her limits certain:
where she should go and how much she should wait
before becoming an object again. inanimate, motionless and material.

for b.j.