burned the inside of my nose so sharp the cold that morning
sparkling on the frost the streetlight covering for the sun
peeled the quilt off my cocoon stubborn like a fool
out into the cold atop our hill the morning after stuffing
wheels made of rocks spinning round and round against the wind
freezing wrapped around my hands around the handlebars
and down we flew this hill another morning before the dawn
to deliver the news the only way you could hold it in your hands
my job, a paperboy, people might not know but soon enough they would
as i raced straight into their lights, they crashed into my bike
the sun was at my back, and in their eyes, i remember tears too
but i had to get to work, there’s papers waiting for me and mine
not just yet my son, you are going with us for now
like a rag tossed on the seat we turned the steel around
my bike i could gather later, here it would wait for me
my legs were gone, at least for a while, doctor ordered rest
until then i would be spoiled, the biggest treat of all?
riding warm with dad tossing papers out the window.