Ode to a Bike

Even though I’m in my pajamas when the thunder rings,

Shaking the hand that’s clutching a foamy toothbrush in the mirror,

I’ll run out anyway

to rescue you, dear.

I’ll fumble at the rain-streaked lock, feeling fat drops soak my t-shirt.

I’ll whisper, be right back,

And then hurry inside for a flashlight to shine on the faint numbers.

I’ll lift your sturdy frame, cradling the metal as if were made of glass.

You’ve carried me in the same way

Over jagged sidewalks.

You’ve rolled with glorious speed, gears cranked up to seven.

And when I’m tired,

When my hands drag limply on the brake,

You drift quietly down dark streets,

Edging potholes and flashing your reflectors

When a car creeps up behind.

You’ll sleep on the porch tonight,

And tomorrow we’ll go for a ride.

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