Poem: You have a bike but

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You have a bike but 
You can’t live in a bike, 
You crank up your saddle, but it’s no property ladder. 
I’m freewheeling with worry, for 
You dangle too close to the traffic, 
And the puddles leap into your pockets. 
You swaddle puddles all day, full of diesel and pink-blown blossoms. 
But you plan to sell tea. 
Victims of frozen rain 
Will get served at bus-stops, hard-shoulders. 
Cups of guerrilla tea 
You’ll deliver and make good money. 
At night, you say, starlight will squeeze through the spokes, 
Or you’ll spin it till raindrops scatter 
And, reflecting the city lights, turn into fireworks 
And they’ll gather to see the marvel around your spin-sleeping form.  
By @Roppotucha Greenberg




Originally published Hand to Mouth a Zine by Kissing Dynamite Poetry
https://www.kissingdynamitepoetry.com/uploads/1/1/8/5/11859462/hand_to_mouth_zine.pdf



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