Dora does not remember
the stairs she descended from heaven
to live on earth.
She remembers the fright feathers
dusting the stairs
of some of those angels who preceded her.
Dora likes to remember the debates:
if descending equals falling
and the difference between toads and frogs.
She carries with her down the steps
a pack that contains her bicycling togs,
an air pump, some trail mix and water bottle.
Dora tours the Desert Southwest
on a blue twenty four speed bike
that pulls a small trailer for camp & cook gear.
She lives each pedal rotation,
as sweat stains her olive drab tank top,
as someone who never wants to go home.
copyright © 2018 Kenneth P. Gurney