Chasing Greg LeMond

The bike
two wheels of bliss taking me through dying towns.
Rooster primes in Breton
with old bent pros
going for gypsy carnival bells,
Muddy buckets in Belgium, behind the barn.
wiping down the gutter grime
Foaming at the mouth
they are running from the factory door,
doing whatever it takes
in a square in a place,
where old men in hats
click a silver stopwatch each time you pass by
and chant allez allez