100 Baiku's

If muscles have Memory. They can also forget, Mine must have Alzheimer’s.

Remove the goal to, Open up the enjoyment, and journeyed success.

Each road delivers a new goal, Each road user aiming different, except today, except this road.

It usually feels like this, at this point. 60% towards the goal, but still forty percent more.

The road surfaced again,  like a serpent from ocean, all wet, in need of resurfacing.

The texture shift, plays another sound, feels another surface. 

Oh sixty if miles could talk, you would say very little,  did you see that deer?

stuck to the ground,  ride in the sky, head in the clouds.

It feels very abroadish, Like being abroad.

On your right! Call over a wobblers shoulder, drifting again.

Pulling up a tutu, Pulling up a hill, one goes down.

And at once the, sun peaked as we summit everyone pinked.

Roads dehydrated as  we passed over them 1by1 30 thousand, take the same bends.

An unset seat leads, to a sore hip until I readjust it,

Tunnels acted as, underground saunas in a cold morning  warmed us.

I’ve got more teeth,  simply meaning more turn and more enjoyable hills.

Alé Alé Alé, We Go Go Go,  For Alex Alex Alex.