i pedal
two tires ’round
the News like a barefoot child
flipping sandals
off,
i walk
over
smoking hot
white peppered pages
flowing
with chopsticks and folks,
i ride like a barely rooted child
’round corners of pages
and see people
whose shoes RUN
the world,
i tiptoe softly
on this white peppered page
hoping
for peace
in rice bowls
