metaphorically
fixing a flat
followed by
fixing it again
three more times
because it was
halfassed
that first time
a story here
there is
but I’m not
going there
into that there
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
triggering
feelings of
diminishing
PSIing
squeezing
feeling feel feelings
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
back to the train station
I’ll tell you a story
someday when
you buy me a beer(s)
but it cannot be
74th Street Ale House
on a rainy Friday the 13th
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