Chef John Malik

a writer trapped in a cook's body



One last time, please.

All  I need is pedals, and a little air.

Climb on board and grip my bars, twist them in your familiar hands

Ease me onto the street, stand up and jump

Coax me through the gears

Just like we used to, so many years ago

Let’s go

All I need is pedals, and a little air

Remember when your muscular legs and toned arms willed me past speed limits?

Past other bikes, and racing dogs

Down mountain passes and up steep bridges

We sliced through corners, blistered pavement

Those younger guys?  Left in our dust

“Some guy on a pink bike”

That’s what they always said

Can’t we do it again?

All I need is pedals, and a little air

I know I’m not new

And neither are you

But I’m still fast, and I’ll make you smile

I’ve sat in this corner, gathering dust, losing air, and waited


All I need is pedals, and a little air



Author: ChefJohn

Cook without tattoo, writer without a pen

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