Rolling down the street on a perfect summers day,
a fishing net, filled with pop cans and a small tackle box
poking out its corners and strewn over one shoulder
with not much of a burden
while fishing poles lay draped
across the handle bars of a good friends bike
and a five gallon bucket, dangles by the seat
as the wind and the day, catches scraggly haircuts and unkempt clothes.
They ride into their oblivious innocence
being their only motive
and enough bait
their only concern.