Mel took off to Cleveland last winter
cramming everything
she really needed
into a hatchback Honda Accord:
herself, her purse,
a fluffy Alaskan Malamute Koda.

Her blue 10-speed Peugeot
got left behind—

that bicycle rests against
the wall
of my garage
to this very day
tires gone flat now
dust covers frame.

I saddle-up on that lonely beast
every couple of weeks.
I sit in darkness.
I whisper,