blue bike

You saw the garage door
Wide open
In anything but a grin
I was so many years ago
On a boat or a train
And then you said something
And I returned to bed
I looked out
From the second story window
I couldn’t see anything.

We had to walk down the stairs
Like a scary movie
1 a.m.
The garage door was so open
But all it had to say was black
You saw my helmet on the ground
I had to pick it up
I couldn’t see anything
I couldn’t see my bicycle
You couldn’t either

The next morning
You saw the cut padlock
In the hostas
And then we could write
Our police report