Sometimes my brother and I ride bikes at night;
wrestle our bodies from bed
with an alarm fashioned of daydreams and white
sheets and mount the stripe
between yellow lines.

Once we made it to the road
in front of the high school
by 2:45 A.M.
and stopped
perpendicular to the wisps of cars, saluted
the empty flagpole
before realizing the police
would also be up this late, hungry
for something to investigate.

Added: February 17, 2012 | Last changed: May 11, 2014