The rain let up, letting out a sigh of juniper, oak and prairie grasses. I lift my feet off the pedals, interrupting rush hour down the limestone creek. My bike could use a wash anyway. Two hours and two motionless armadillos. Im expecting a third coming up if the ratio continues. I think about my childhood when I’m out here and the sweet, vegetal taste of prickly pear cactus fruit. I glance left, beaten again by a roadrunner in our race towards somewhere. Man and horse, silhouetted by the deep depths of wandering cumulus shapes. We exchange waves and I wonder if he wants to swap steeds. Unlikely. The sun begins to slowly duck behind the hills, as if I won’t notice. I stare directly down the barrel, coax it with flattery. Stay just a second longer, why don’t you?
