Solomon’s Child (2)

March 21, 2007

Shortly after bike number 3
was taken from me, I saw
stolen bike number 2 –
tethered in town,

It was only a shopper- but there
was the headlight, the fragile trace of
doodled scratches, the wonky brake cord,
rusted latch.

Me and my friend we waited with it
and rang for back up – we were thinking:
crackhead, desperate, shifty-
could do anything – best take care.

We braced ourselves.
Tongues licking lips, like thin lines of melon.
Palms like netting, ready for a fight.
When she came round the corner, we nearly died.

She was in her first year -missing parents,
not from here. She was tiny, pretty,
lots of hair. She was not-
a drug dealer.

She’d bought my bike on Narborough Road
the second hand place, with the fridges
and the wardrobes. She’d got it in October,
had it 6 months. Only 7 – since I’d got it myself.

This was a case of Solomon’s child.
The bike locked up.The owners riled.
She rung her hands, I chewed my lip
Neither of us knowing what to think.

I took her number and let her go
and two days later the coppers phoned.
They said the law was on my side
they called me quite within my rights

Did I want my vehicle seized?
The nice blonde girl, with small white teeth.
The girl who’d meant my bike no harm,
Who’d never have wanted any part.

Tell my bike
I’ll always love it
It’s got a good home
and that counts for something.

Tell the girl
that she can keep it
I’ll send it postcards,
Birthdays, Christmas.

And if it questions
when it’s older
Tell them –
they can always phone me.

And if it asks
why it was given
tell it that I’m-
always with it.

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2 Responses to “Solomon’s Child (2)”

  1. Allan said

    ;o) must be from the Netherlands

  2. No, though give me time and I’ll have my little bit of the UK converted;)

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