i’ve written tales about you. long winded, winding, weathered tales of trouble, tumult, and temper.
they didn’t mean i didn’t love you. want you, need you.
they didn’t mean i didn’t dream of you.
your steely appeal when sitting stationary, your controlled cadence on those long roads.
we removed the baggage, and paired you down to practicality.
you carried my french loaf, and my whole flipping life one summer. i barely even knew you then.
i’m sorry i didn’t tie the knot. tighten the lock. secure the bond!
my friend, my bike… now you’re gone!
(brodie elan, burgundy frame, covered in stickers, white grip tape, last seen at 2am near commercial drive, sans bread and flowers. call me if you see her!)