Wind

Wind is my drug.
My hands are up in the breeze and I can feel tingles on my arm hairs as we come to a stop.
I wave hi to strangers as we pass and give the sign as other bikes go by.
The air has the stickiness of the summer night in every breath.
My feet wiggle as the smile grows across my face so wide, you know this is my happy place.
All I can hear is the RUM of the bike and the WOOSH of the wind in my ears.
For a moment, I have no troubles.
For a moment, all is well.
For just a moment, I can fly.