Thursday, June 21, 2007
ode to a stolen bicycle
dear beautiful green bicycle--
i'm sorry i left you there unprotected on that rainy day. you have to understand that i would have been 1/2 hour late to work if i rode you home and put you safely inside. who knew the thieves would be so thick in this hip nabe? clever, they were, not fooled by the way i carefully looped your chain around your broken lock. i'm sorry i shrugged and thought, "easy come, easy go", then rushed through the rain to make money. even though i only gave the polish man $20 to attempt to ride you home, you really took my breath away as he carried you up from his greenpoint basement. only now do i realize now how un-disposable you really are.
i miss your bright green glow. when i see a retro green bike around town, part of me gets excited, ready to steal you back and kick the ass of whatever hipster unknowingly paid $150 to that guy on the corner who sells the stolen bikes. but alas, they are not you. none are as beautiful. i miss your split cushy seat that used to get so soggy when it rained. you looked just as lovely with an 'i heart new york' bag tied around your seat. and your brakes took turns malfunctioning--i know i cursed you for that--but if i had you back, i promise i would look on the bright side and instead thank you for at least giving me function of one at a time. how smart and considerate you were! if you came back to me, i'd even forgive you for all those times your chain fell off and got completely caught in your spokes. instead of having a greasy fit, i would now commend you for your amazing flexibility. who knew metal could tie itself in knots?!
yep, bicycle, we sure had some good times. remember that time we went down to redhook with mieke and maya? ah, what a beautiful day. you just loved those key lime tarts as you relaxed by the water. you really showed mieke's brand new fancy bike, didn't you? kept up like a champ, even though i think you're older than this old maid. i'm sorry i accepted mieke's offer to trade for part of the ride home, then insensitively called you a 'pinto' next to mieke's 'cadillac'. i didn't really mean it. ah, bicycle, don't cry. maybe we'll be re-united in the afterlife, where we won't need functioning bike locks.
what's that? i got mieke's bike stolen, too? oh, so you wanna point fingers? okay, how's this then? you could have told me before we left the house that your lock was broken instead of laughing at me while i repeatedly tried to jam it closed in the POURING RAIN. it wasn't like it was my TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY IN NEW YORK or anything. yeah, that's nice. go on, pretend you love your new owner. i can take it. i know the truth.