Ladies Choice

flyin down this hill on my schwin 
well I guess this is where it all begins 
go in sandburg come out like ray charles 
an odor of jasmine for yer flowers 
sometimes on my bicycle rides 
these pleasantries fall from the trees 
little Quixote's fished out like floaties 
from the bevy of yer choice 
ladies choice 

flyin down this hill on my schwin 
well I guess it all could have ended then 
unlike consternation's quagmire above 
the streets firmly paved ways 
coupled with speed and gravity 
and the craniums tendency
to leak vital information 
all over the road to recovery