This Simple Night: A Rondeau.

This simple night reminds me of a time
I can’t record or store in rhyme.
To me, that memory feels like
my briny balance on a bike,
a concept, less man, more mime.

Perhaps I pranced with pals to chime
about some crush. Or, did I climb
with crushes? I’ve done no such hike
this simple night.

Despite my mind, the stone, sublime,
abate space takes me to my prime
head-time. On nights like these, I’d strike
with cosmos questions on a pike.
I lost those thoughts. I’ll dodge that crime
this simple night.