Abandoned, locked to the fate
Under a lamp post scavenger
Needing a part that is easy pickings.
The tires flat and a wheel untethered,
The bell ringing in a distant street
On a miss patched handle bar.
Break forks empty usually the first to go
Rust sets in and soon the cables disappear
And then a lever because its not much use with out break pads.
The feeling of inevitable use and need.
Rarely seen, but crouched over the machine
She breaks a chain and takes the rear derailleur.
Could I use the stem maybe a better size? but I ride by
Afraid of tilting the bike karma balance unfairly
The rear tire is now cracked spokes are missing
The rim is bent, peddles gone, one at a time.
The lock looks bigger now pressing the frame down
Where it once stood on wheels and the lock was perky
Now flat with a crushed soda can over the head tube,
More spokes gone? Some sticking out bent like stems
where the leaf was torn away. The tubes now used
For tying down a crate on the back of another bike
Finally the tires go, cut and used I don’t know
Now the frame and lock lay rusted unable to be freed
Then its gone and the sign post waits
For the next bike to suffer the picking and pecking in the night.