Liberty

I dreamed that Liberty
was riding her bicycle by
at a pretty high speed
but I was in just the right spot,
probably had a few good deeds
(or was graciously given the will to try)
that landed me there and then,
and she was bent, I mean really, 
bending through space on a wing and a prayer,
drunk on morning glory, microbrew,
tobacco and acid,
cycling from Trenton to suburbs and past them,
engaged in that more French than American pastime,
and I said to her Liberty, what is our destiny,
and she winked and she wobbled into
the breeze she was waking, and said
Child, we travel the road we are making.