The room dark, music pounding
flashing neon, extreme exertion
moves us out of ordinary mind.
He must have died this way
fully alive, engaged–
doing what he loved most.
He was not in a spin class
but biking on a concrete street where a body
can spin, like a Frisbee, out of control.
Surely he never knew what happened–
the two tons of crushing steel
barreling from behind.
I love you, Jack I whisper,
in love with his vibrant aliveness
his wholesome goodness.
Now merging with the bike, I embody
him in this all-out effort
sweat-drenched and panting.