You can’t miss me.
I’m the antibody
to the placebo effect. I ride
fast. I scare the people
coming out of
the parking garages.

Death
 will go like this:
pedaling past barren trees
on the river’s edge.
In front of me
the bridge. I ride up and
the screaming is over.

I will keep a femur,
a feather,  a vial
of wind,
a stone, leave
my spine
by the side of the road.