Nude Cyclists in Toronto
we order cappacino topped with chocolate
at Bar L'Espresso Mercurio
when the lunch crowd rushes to windows
reflections of nude cyclists, rhythms of
gods and goddesses from another time
Hera and Zeus, Apollo and Athena
incarnate, blessed with beauty and youth
pointing to our Akhilles
fire beneath the sea
fish and fowl drowned in oil
a million tar balls pitched
onto sacred sands
planet earth slowly sucked into a grave
marked by my shiny new van
stalled on the edge