I stopped at a corner market with both of my bikes with me. There was a lot of commotion out on the street. there were artificial lights, millions of black serpentine cables everywhere, and so much more noise than i was used to on this corner. seems like they were filming something in the bakery across the street. maybe i'll see someone famous. or someone smoking hot. either would make the day successful.

shit. i forgot my lock.

it'll be really quick. for 5 seconds, i won't even take my eyes off the bike... it'll be rested against this window and i'll be able to see the wheels...and i'll just be on the otherside!....alright ...GO! I sprint inside the store and find it relatively calm. a couple picking up dinner supplies, two young men carrying a mountain of smoldering coffee, and a less-fortunate brown-bagging something. I run backwards to the aisle with the rice making sure those wheels where still on the ground, almost knocking over the display of fatty potato chips with its wall of greasy looking yellow bags.

alright find the brown rice...

i use my peripherals to snatch up with unsuspecting bag and b-line it for the register.

comon man just take the money! i nervously switch between the cashier and the shadow of my tires on the ground.

they're still there, hurry up man!

more people started shopping and more people started to gather outside for the flashy lights.

ALRIGHT, RECEIPT, THANKS, BYE.

BYE.

my legs wouldn't respond.

my arms, nothing.

my brain shut down. a blank look swept over my face, then things started feeling light.

the only noise now was my heavy breathing, my chest expanding, deflating, inhale, exhale....

remember to breathe...

breath.

breath.

breath.

WHAT. THE FUCK? they're gone

oh no... they're gone

its happening again... fuck

the door frame must've made the moment seem like television for the cashier. me standing frozen in fear followed by the grocery bag slipping from my grip followed almost every time by the violent cries. this channel is starting to get boring now.. but there's just something about watching a man cry like he was the last person on earth... my eyes are GLUED.

i ran circles around the store then around the block. just let me catch a glimpse of those black cruiser bars or some 20" wheels. Every bike on the block started looking like mine. What a waste of time, stopping to look at every bike and scanning to ensure i don't wail on an innocent bystander.

but there are no innocent bystanders really. how could all these people be around, see me leave my bikes, enter the store, see someone else other than me grab my bikes and ride away, and NOT DO ANYTHING??? don't they pay attention? don't they recognize me and make some sort of short term memory? don't I make some sort of impact??

i probably would've done the same thing. poor bastards, all our possessions will be stolen from right under our noses.

HAVE YOU SEEN A BIKE WITH...... OR THIS OTHER BIKE THAT LOOKED LIKE.......

back and forth

left right

someone might've seen something.

night came crashing down tonight.

no elegance.

nothing.

(11/11/10)

(...continued)

I ran off into the black streets, there's no reason to have tears now.

then again there's no reason to hold them back.

my silent sobs were muted by the howls of cars and drunkards. An hour has passed and i'm ready to give up. i'm ready to stop trying, to not invest myself in anything anymore. the hurt is too much. in the case that warrants hurt.

I know who has your bikes...

who said that? he must've been watching me, or does he know me? He should've stopped them. what the fuck.

"I know the two guys that took it... they live around the corner. I saw what happened."

what the fuck man.

i couldn't even say anything. i wanted to. i wanted to scream at this fucker until my lungs collapsed, til my vocal chords burned.

but fuck it. "Where do they live?"

Right around the corner. Literally around the corner and down the block. Every step I took towards this house filled me with anger. and purpose. The streetlight failed to lighten the path. Even the grass was black. The house had a deceitful picket fence, painted falsely white. Lies. This house was the destroyer of love. A thief resides here.

I peer into the window, I didn't care if anyone saw. My eyes scanned the dark living room, making out the faces in the picture frames, the collection of bikes and bike parts littered on the floor and in every corner, the lack of my two bikes. Shit. They're not there.