Friday, June 6, 2008

The Bike Man

The Bike Man

My gears needed attention
because when I shifted
into sixth, they slipped back
to fourth.

And when I downshifted
to fifth, to compensate,
I ended up spinning
like a rat on a wheel.

Wade hoisted my Schwin
onto the bike lift,
cranking the rubber pedal
while eyeing the chain.

He twisted a silver cap
on the front end cable
then jimmied the bottom bracket
as the brakes were engaged.

Who knew a man named Wade
would know all about the intricate
details of my derailleur,
by only spinning my two wheels.

Who knew a man named Wade
would fix my purple vélo
with nothing more than
a thin gloss of lubricant

stretched between his two fingers
firmly pressed on my clotted chain,
easing deeply into my bearings
until the kink came out.

1 comment:

Ann said...

Susan,

I'd love to read more of your work. Thank you for the invite! Should I read here, or at Gather?

That said, you've managed to somehow transform bicycle repair into a piece of erotica. What exquisite prose, and what an unexpected trun into the realm of the sensual! I, too, love a man who is good with his hands.

On Gather, I am trueemptiness, by the way.