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Accounting for Everything: Stolen
A bike was stolen. My bike. Gone are the windswept days leaning into the corners of the sea to sky. At least for now.
This bike, not just any bike, named after my Gran R.I.P
and fast as a snake's tongue.
I darted. I zipped. I wiped out. I got back up. I claimed it from insurance.
A friend was stolen. My friend. Gone are the windswept days he leaned into the corners of the sea to sky. At least forever.
This friend, not just any friend, named Bogdan gift from god as fast as a snake's tongue.
He darted. He zipped. He wiped out.
He was claimed from us.
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