The existential bicycle is more
than lost: he doesn’t even know the road
he took to get there. There,
wherever that
might be. He searches for a road to take
him back. Remembering that old phrase All
roads lead to Rome,
he wonders if the same
applies to All roads
lead back home. He takes
the nearest road and travels, more in hope
than expectation, as a thought reminds
him that he either has no home or does
not know its whereabouts. But off he pedals.
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