Last Saturday, I attended our city's bicycle auction, sponsored by the local police department. It's amazing how many lost/stolen bikes they end up with in a given year. Hundreds of them! I have been riding my Craigslist bike for nearly a decade, so I decided it was time to see if I could get something a bit newer. I am not a daily rider or anything like that, so I didn't want to spend hundreds of dollars on a bike. Me so cheap. I arrived at the fairgrounds just after 8 a.m. to register for the auction. They give you an hour to look at the stuff (they also had surplus equipment and stuff like fishing poles and folding chairs). I made my way up and down rows of bikes. I kept thinking of that scene from Pee Wee's Big Adventure when he topples a whole row of motorcycles. Whenever I saw a bike I might like, I added its number to a list I was keeping in my phone. Some of the bikes looked like they'd been run over by a semi, but there were some really nice ones, too.
Showing posts from April, 2017
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I wrote this poem for a poetry service at church so I figured I may as well dump it here, too. It barely qualifies as a poem (more like prose), but what the heck. 11 and 11/12 “What is this?” I ask, plucking a shred of neon paper from the carpet in her bedroom. She shrugs. She must have limber shoulders from all that shrugging, I think to myself. “Wash your plate when you’re done with your dinner, please.” I deliver my request in a measured tone. Later, I find that the plate has been washed but not the fork. I didn’t mention the fork, after all. I gently inquire about some missing assignments for math and science classes. In response, the eyes roll back so far that I sometimes wonder just how far they can go. “I think you need a shower,” I suggest, delicately at first and then less delicately. She agrees, but requires me to turn on the water and check the temperature for her. For the next hour, she sings Adele songs into the showerhead and drains the city’s water reserves.