Quarantine Bike

The houses across the river wink at you,

As if to say “you’re free, remember?”

Because so often, you forget.

You used to remember the sound of her voice,

And you would swerve around trees

On your bike built only for tarmac.

You used to seek the abstract intangibles,

The things you thought you’d find,

Like “faith,” 

and “fate,” 

and “fame.”

Now you seek only the things you’ve lost.

Your bike,

Your watch,

Your favorite ballpoint pen,

And all of it rusts.

All Rights Reserved. Elise Stankus 2020.