An Ode to my Stolen Bike

I loved my bike
She was silver and sleek
But alas, she left with another man
I don’t blame her
I tried to love her the best that I could
But I shouldn’t have complained about that time she hurt my taint on that really long ride to South Lido
We enjoyed so many adventures together
She went with me wherever I went
Always taking her down the nicest roads
Never pushing her harder than she wanted to be pushed
Gliding through life with the elegance and grace that only comes with true love
It hurts me that I never took her picture
And have nothing but memories
Memories that accompany every step I take
As life grinds to halt
And slowly reaches forward
With somber footfalls
And pedals sorely missed in their absence
I don’t blame her for leaving me
In the dead of night
Leaving the door open
After her exodus from the best life that I could offer her
But why?
Why sweet Jesus?
Why did she have to leave me for such an asshole?

Steve McAllister is the author of The Rucksack Letters and How to Survive an Estralarian Mind Meld. He posts regularly at InkenSoul.com, and sometimes posts at Anything Arts, Sarasota Music Scene, and Elephant Journal, and is currently the Director of Operational Development for the Common Wealth Time Bank in Sarasota, Florida. Follow him on Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube.

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