i pedal 

two tires ’round 

the News like a barefoot child

flipping sandals 

off, 

i walk

over

smoking hot

white peppered pages 

flowing 

with chopsticks and folks,

i ride like a barely rooted child

’round corners of pages 

and see people

whose shoes RUN

the world,

i tiptoe softly 

on this white peppered page

hoping

for peace 

in rice  bowls