Bike Brat

One mad boy’s on his bike tricking out in the parking lot

a-bouncing and swinging around as if

the ground b-bopped and bowed.

He’s got his feet to the pedals and his arms sticking out

to the undisciplined street before the

pavement slowed.

But he’s been breaking out backwards on his bike

with a jumping chain corroded

and slumping and hiking it around—

dragging out his tires on the sand and

drowning out sound.

And he spends his days with Rave Dave

and Todd the Bod and plays drinking games

in the basement of some flat,

running with White Heap on the streets at night

and by first light’s found in the lot out back—

just one mad boy breaking out bad beats

once a bike brat.

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--Poems from the Sprawl