I recall inheriting my first bike.
Solid steel.
Pink as a Maritime sunset, only more bright.
I remember replacing my sister's bike after two long years of back-n-forths -- two years of childish insults and character building -- as I choose to see it.

The thing was invincible -- rain or snow.
Save the rust, which had its way.
I missed that old bike for a time...
It was sentimental, as they say.

My next two broke down fast -- they were hardly comparable.
When I was able to buy my own, the excitement was unbearable.

What a beauty 14", titanium dirt jumper,
Canadian made Norco -- Red, it gleams.
Even to this day, twelve years downstream.

It's too bad it hasn't grown with me
Because I'm having trouble giving it away...
We've spent a short lifetime together
And I know I will rue the day
I forsake my childhood
And take
Three hundred dollars
In its place.