Two years ago, I bought a chain
fattest chain I could find at Bimsco Hardware on Stone Avenue.
Tonight I did the same thing I’ve been doing
three nights in a row, and that is
yin within yang: sitting by the woodstove
listening to BBC World News
and chain smoking from my mesquite pipe.
But this time I got something accomplished.
I pulled that chain, smoking, out of the used motor oil
a hellish stink swirling in the cool wind.
“Harden the fuck up, chain.” and I laughed.
Protect the Landshark [“never get out of the boat”]
Absolutely god-damned right. That’s my BIKE.
but MY bike is going in a box, and then in a trunk.
(There is your wife, and then there is your rose rouge)
That perfect lover, that perfect fit
that fitted with me, and loved me -
I had her for only five weeks. It was sweet.
But this bike – this perfect fit masterpiece…
I get to keep her forever. And I will.
“Harden the fuck up, mate.” [remember: “The mountain is my woman now and she beats me.”]
“Right.” Turn the cup [Your love is in a box].
Opening it will be softening into joy; into a spring ride. [liberation, strength, the way]
And I’ll say:
“GOD DAMN what a sweet bike.”
Yang within yin: gathering wood.
Yin within yang: sitting by the woodstove.