Tonight's Poet Corner: A Nasty Spill

A Nasty Spill
by Belinda Roddie

She sat on the curb
with bruises on her knees
and two blown out tires
on the bicycle she had inherited
from her father. She was crying.

A man walked over with ice packs
and a chai latte from the closest
café. He didn't ask for anything back -
just handed her the healing
and the coping mechanisms
and make sure she had a ride home.

When her mother arrived, they
both sat on the curb together, and
they held each other, and they shed
tears together, and meanwhile,
the bicycle lay feebly in a weary
slouch on the pavement, lips
deflated, leaving only crooked
spokes that were once talkative teeth.