word salad for breakfast

Demons silenced for a while,
Just had a short little ride,
To clear out the cobwebs,
Just to hear the wheels spinning,
The concrete smooth and dry underneath.
I’ve skated everyday for the last week,
No improvement but I’m racing against time,
Bones going brittle and knees arthritic,
Memory fading with each passing day,
But with them go my cares as well.
I hit the wall and kickturn,
My thighs immediately start to burn,
The fickle body beginning to abandon me,
Nothing to do but keep going,
Set it free and my mind will follow.
Random bmx-icans and fruitbooters playing around,
I swear that one dude looks Indian,
Canadian at that--maybe even Wiky,
But we all took our time took our turns,
No need to rush nowhere to get to.
Had some good curb action the day before,
After warming up and huffing and puffing,
Finally started landing them after awhile,
Co-worker videoed on her cellphone.
She was hoping for something dramatic,
Like me falling on my ass,
Or doing a faceplant to asphalt,
But all in good fun just egging me on,
Just like she’s always done.
Click-clack snap and crack,
Sickest sounds around for days,
Blurry bald-headed little old me,
But there’s that smile and no denying,
I’m a goof for sure but having fun.
Working away on Labor Day,
Just like every other holiday,
My wheels squeal as I pass the stadium,
One donut and one about to bust,
But somehow manages to keep going.
Just like this old man behind the wheel,
Too many miles to remember,
Too many people and places seen,
But somehow some way keeps going,
Just as long as the blood keeps flowing.