We raced the empty industrial streets
the quiet, closed, cloistered streets
of an abandoned neighborhood.

They moved faster than my walking pace
so I biked with them
and they had to keep pace with my speed. 

This way, I could poop them out
and they had a great time.
I just had to be a little faster than them
to maintain their interest
a carrot on a stick for these excitable fellas
and they’d follow me across this ridiculous
secluded landscape. 

Sometimes, one might take interest in a dirty puddle
but a quick call of “Heidegger!” or “Pizza!” 
would be enough to get them on the move again.

We were not entirely alone
in this weekend wonderland. 
Some trucks had deliveries
and I did not notice one had come between me and my charges
but I did hear the squeal when Pizza lay beside the road 
and the truck sped past. 

Pizza quickly got up. 
I couldn’t tell if she had actually been hit
or just scared.
Since she seemed to shrug it off, 
I bet on scared, but watched her carefully
as we slowed our roll for the rest of our travels that day.

Nothing really seemed to hamper 
the opportunities of the weekends in the wild, though. 
They seemed up for it,
but what did they know?