I ride on my good friend's red scooter;
only one helmet
and she wears it.

The air a perfect sweetness:
wind on my toes,
wind on my hair.

Holding to her with my thighs,
and just touching with my arms
to her jacket.
We sing loud
over the rush of wind.

I am not a risk-taker,

but today I ate
a piece of chocolate, slowly,
and at the red light I think
Well,

if death comes, I am ready.