Preadolescence

Megan Bell

In the summers we rode our bikes toward the San Andreas Fault
our wheels left tracks in the sand as we fled toward the sea
and with every push up the hill I felt the land opening
I swore to love childhood a little more as the surface began to quake.

I watched trees growing themselves up
their thick trunks determined to bless the unknown
and his laugh as he told me to pedal faster
always faster toward the sea.

Cars flew by but our wheels were better
younger without the weight and work of metal
and mist in my mouth
as my wheels turned and turned closer to his.

Sometimes we stopped for a snack and he sucked watermelon juice
like it was sustenance he craved, his eyes got wild
and I only saw myself in them but he couldn’t see me
wanting to lap the juice as it ran down his chin.