Riding Bicycles Naked

riding bicycles naked
                                   must be awkwardly
                                                                 dangerous,
                                    but seems so worthy
                                       the trouble, no?

shirtless as I exit
                      the lake and leave its edge,
                                                  you cannot muster
                                               a response to keep my balls
                                                             safe from falsely calous
                                                                     curiosity
        off come my trunks,
                          my junk refuses,
             to be embarassed,
                      borne between pumping legs
                                           "fuck you," it seems to say
                                                                                             "its cold."

Onward I go, the wind apace across new skin
I scream a nervous laugh and dare you to give chase,
your clothes in my hand.
                                 A blushing fury propels you passed
                                                                   modesty and
                                     besides, if you don't catch me
you're stuck with the view of my ass,
                                               so wheels spin and a
crazed competion, new for old friends,
                         throws us naked,
                         bouncing perilously on our seats,
                         over dirt paths in high grass,
                     still dripping from our swim.