a couple of weeks ago my bike was claimed by the greater london forced bike recycling scheme.
i picture it alone, in some lock up, being subjected to bike plastic surgery. the removal of ugly stickers. perhaps a deep clean (to think about the day i spent cleaning that chain with a toothbrush in the sunshine) someone may think to remove my girly, and frankly ugly, decaying seat.
every night i dream of wheels, thieves in masks, electric chainsaws, lost property, pliers, high speed police chases, prison cells, keys, spiralling falls, sense of loss, gasps, angry words.
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