R.M. Dolin, February 14, 2024
I’m a hapless romantic
with tenuous tethers to reality
who fantasizes about finishing at Roubaix
exhausted, muddied, and worn,
but joyfully happy to see you waiting
in your blue dress holding
a single white rose
and a soft tender smile.
It’s silly I know, especially after
saying you no longer love me.
Then came my crash and
the emergency room doctor saying
I’d never heal in time to race.
But I just have to, I can’t let
a broken bike and busted body keep
me from France, from seeing you
one more time.
I’m a Quixotic spirit
chasing windmills into walls
with little regard for doctor’s orders.
I replaced my bike and got back to training,
but am only able to endure
25-mile rides before the pain’s
too acute, leaving me
81 short of finished.
My need to see you pushes
me into the saddle
because the pain of losing you
is far greater than anything
cobblestones can cause.
Let me to come to you
before the race,
our pretext can be to run
the course and assess
if my damaged shoulder
can take the pounding,
but the real reason dear Dulcinea,
is to let my beleaguered heart hear
all those things
I refuse to believe you’ll say.
Background poem for the novel, “The Dangling Conversation.” Kyle relates to Don Quixote’s impossible dream while pleading with Nadia to let him to come to France to be with her even if he can’t bear to hear what she has to say.
