Riding East To West.

I zoomed to my
inside in-person non-Zoom
classroom on my
chunky clunky chalk-colored
scooter.

I slid by
stout, statued, age-stained
mainstays:
old beaten anti-vehicle beams,
cold boisterous annoying

benches,
and
tiny, pine-cony, seed
things.

My thin tired tires
trotted past temporary
vocal social locals
too,

but

I ignored all these things,
listening to tunes pulsating
and originating from my
dried dinky discount-rose
headphones.

I snuck onto the un-wide sidewalk and
tightened my chilly climate-killed grip. And as the
working waning paining
wind spindled, I knew my lofi-song would stop
soon.