fortune cookie, you’re so sweet
How to Homebrew
By Gavin S. Lambert
I learned to ride, at age four,
On a stolen bike. It was spray-
Painted policeman blue, and, to me,
The sweetest thing on two wheels.
A neighbor boy, about nineteen,
Named Duper, had given it to me.
He’d pushed it up to the opened front
Door and yelled in “Stephen, I got somethin’
For ya!”
My wise mother, not want to piss off
A budding criminal, thanked him, smiling.
When dad got home, late that afternoon,
They consulted.
I don’t remember what they decided that
Evening, but I rode that ugly blue bike
All afternoon.
Without even knowing,
I rode it like it was stolen,
A hot commodity.
It’s interesting how a thing rises to
The occasion, becomes what it is, finds
Its own way through the dark streets of intention.
My only problem that day was stopping.
I didn’t know how, so I just rode, fast,
Until I was tired, and then slowed down
In the grass and fell over.
Editor @ June 26, 2007
“interesting how a thing rises to the occasion, becomes what it is, finds its own way through the dark streets of intention”
…and then finds its way into a poem. its a fairly good narration. I liked “I rode it like it was stolen”, “policeman blue” and the ending. I’ve always found a narrative poem like this to be difficult to pull off well - meaning I usually dislike the results when I try it myself. In this case, I think the ironies you’ve elevated here make it work well enough, but it seems like it could use a little more editing.