the antediluvian gravitational waves
pull me
down the descents of Marilaque,
unraveling
the mysteries of my bicycle,
its classic steel tubes
silently complaining against the stresses,
while every moment is constantly rolling the dice
of probability
whether metal fatigue would set in,
even as
the combined masses
of steel and flesh
fight to stay upright,
and where
the quickest way to turn on a curve is
counterintuitively countersteering,
and the safest way to dash through
the tightest hairpin is
to trail brake on a delayed apex,
and all the while
Einstein\'s Relativity is
endlessly helping my GPS
to quietly track
my path
to eternity