Circle

Outside, a man rides his bicycle around in circles,
cavorts with gears clicking and hitching
under my window, around the parking garage,
under my window, continues.
He whistles a tune that meshes the clicks,
makes me giggle and forget why I looked
out my window to be alone with the stars.
But for the 12 seconds he is gone, I remember.
I fall out of love like the whistle off his lips
and years break up in the dark night.
For the 3 seconds he is here, careening,
making clicks and music, I remember
why I'm alive, why I fell,
why I fall out to fall in again.
Outside a man locks up his bicycle
and goes up to his bed.
I imagine his wife, waiting warm as always,
she pretends to be asleep when he comes in
but he loves her anyway, and smiles.
(I fall out to fall in again.)