Girl on a Bicycle

The blue-enameled body of the slender beast

Is alive, with the pulse of movement,

Between her thighs;

Sunlight splashes from the wheels

As she sends it through a brilliant puddle;

Its nickeled antlers seem entangled

In the flowering of her breasts.

Seemingly she is borne, against her will, away

From me, like Europa by the bull; |

Only her smile, as intimate

And impersonal as the sun,

Is left reflected on my lips-

And the street becomes a shell

From which the tender meaning's flown.