The Only One
She could be the only one
there is
I lift my foot
with the attached roller ski
four inches above the asphalt;
glide smoothly forward on the left ski
and look like a dog lifting its leg
to pee,
until I immediately
let the roller ski strike the surface again,
beyond the little one;
lighthearted & warm in my chest
– for she could have been the only one there is
besides me
in a deserted universe;
besides myself
speeding along Road 52
out toward Valstaäng
where I usually turn around
during training runs,
7 km from home
Yes, imagine if she were the only one
there was,
a vanishing insect, as tiny as a speck
in Bob Dylan’s Every Grain of Sand,
at the utmost edge of visibility
It is her quick movement
in the raking light of early summer
that reveals her, saves her
as I sweep past
high above her;
lifting my foot and right roller ski,
continuing into the evening sun
behind my polarized eyes,
glad not to be alone
on the planet;
happy about the little one
who has disappeared into the grass
at the roadside,
with my awareness of her existence
warming my chest
with the wonderful feeling
of not arriving the sole sentience
down this world
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Written on 2026-05-28 at 12:59
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