It was quick and clean
the lock didn’t suffer
neatly decapitated … lying on the ground
the chain dangling
still swirling gently –
the bike gone.
The security man was weary
took no details – only a phone number
promised nothing. He kept his promise.
The policeman was cheerful
took lots of details,
my phone number
gave me a number – “ for your insurance company.”
What did I think it was worth?
Mountain bikes grow old so quickly
about $250 I guessed
“they probably sold for $100 in a bar ”
$50 thought the policeman – “a tab of meth.”