bikes.

i remember when I used to ride,
up to your house in the summer,
your mother would give us ice lollies,
two every time, two was a constant for me.

i got busy everytime, showing you my tricks,
on the bike, as the ice melted in my hand,
sweet sticky and colourful rendition,
i had to wash it away, for two seconds.

then i would plead you to share,
i had lost my delight to time,
i was greedy, i wanted to share,
you would let me take two licks.

i remember when she moved into the house,
at the end of the lane, our age, better playthings,
you started going to her house often,
i missed the ice lollies, i missed my two licks from yours.

i peed in her garden, on a snowy evening,
in the patch of hydrangea, immaculately maintained,
i was angry you see, i missed you,
i wanted to make you ride my bike, but it could not seat two.

that christmas i begged my father for a back seat,
he asked why not toys or games,
i have two each of those, i had said
life is about backseats, i said, doesn’t your car have one?

i waited intrepidly all night,
i rushed to check under the christmas tree as soon as i woke,
there was a lego death-star, my heart sank,
i smiled at my dad for two seconds and left.

i rushed up to my room,
looking around for objects, maybe two,
objects that i could fashion into a back seat,
but i found another gift under the bed, my father really loved me.

i spent two hours putting it on, refusing help from my father,
i put on my nicest clothes, my nicest smile,
i rode down the lane, to your house,
but I saw you there, you and her, riding your shiny new bikes.

image by the ever so talented Amanda

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