metaphorically
fixing a flat
followed by
fixing it again
three more times
because it was
halfassed
the first time
a story here
there is
an epic fable
but I’m not
going there
into that
actual fix a flat
I’m proud or maybe
I’m embarrassed
by how many flats
I’ve actually fixed
my own
as well as
bike shop bikes
replacing
swapping
scuffing
sanding
vulcanizing
patching
booting
triggering
feelings of
diminishing
PSI
squeezing
feeling feelings
sincerely
for real
really
they say they
come in threes
are you kidding me?
it was all
summed up
succinctly
by my
Canadian girlfriend
when she said
“I thought you worked on bikes”
as she drove me
and my bike
back to the train station
I’ll tell you a story
someday when
you buy me beer(s)
but not at the
74th Street Ale House
on a rainy Friday the 13th
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