There’s a hummingbird in your hallway or your smoke alarm battery is low.
Like the time the egg timer was set to remind you of what you forgot but you went to work without it because the clock on the wall was set seven minutes early so you wouldn’t be late and you thought you left on time so then the timer went off all day sending its signal strong with no one to hear it except the Pomeranian in the laundry room.
Then there's the trusty teapot with the droopy rippled handle that feels like elevation lines on a topo map of Boston Basin from the time ten years ago when it boiled dry heated red hot until the molten plastic smell gave it away to the former roommate napping three rooms away.
Which reminds me of a burr in the seat tube leaving lines gouged into a pristine post zig-zagging like a sensitive seismograph or an excited EKG that was never seen until someone borrowed your bike.
Remember the coffee shop came first then more foot traffic then spruced up adjacent storefronts with hip infant-toddler consignment stores and art galleries and property values increased then rents went up new businesses went in bodegas moved out houses were bought and sold and another gentrification cycle cycled through ripples radiating out in concentric circles from central business districts and urban villages then there goes the neighborhood until old timers talked about good old days
reminiscing
brinelling
indexing
pitting
pitted
pointed in that direction
let the headset be the guide
for a no-handed ride
home
comfort zone
under control
c o n s i s t e n t l y
counterclockwise
with a twitch of the hips
it's all in your mind
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