the stealing

The Stealing

A big black bike, with frugal rubber tires
and an old-fashioned handlebar,
is leaning against a whitewashed wall,
this morning.
Someone had nicked it on the way from
the bar last night:
so, the thief lives in one of the stone cottages
around here.
The bike looks catholic,
isn’t telling,
made of hollow steel tubes, chains and rubber
it really doesn’t care who rides it.
It didn’t use to be like this, years ago
I often found a donkey grazing outside
the houses seemed to be an everyday thing,
friendly animals didn’t care who rode them;
nowadays if a tractor goes missing
...police and questions asked.
Me? I instead walk home from the bar.