Broken Bike

by Scott Jordan Frink

I wanna be free,

not a child curled up in the fetal position,

crying not because he has two scraped knees—

crying because he fell off the bike,

and he failed.

Image credit: Tristan Gevaux on Unsplash

The stones impaled

in his knees that bleed

through his torn-up jeans.

Just when life seems

like easy riding,

that ice patch,

sent him gliding

into reality,

where the cold breeze

stings the abrasions.

Tears for every occasion—

for his fucked-up life,

for his broken bike,

for the leather belt

that life relentlessly hides him with

Does he deserve this?

He doesn’t know.

But it’s his reality.

He gets back on that bike,

with road-burnt palms.

Every rotation of the pedal brings pain,

but he has to return home again.

To wash out his wounds,

make room in his book of life

for another page wetted by tears,

where he writes his fears—

that someday he won’t be strong enough

to pedal home

on that broken bike

we call life.

***

Scott Jordan Frink

Scott Jordan Frink writes from the raw edge of lived experience, where survival often comes before craft. His poetry is instinctive, emotional, and unpolished—meant to be felt more than analyzed. He is the founder of The Broken Spine Journal, a publication dedicated to amplifying unheard voices. His debut chapbook, Inwont Paint You Flowers, is out now through Bottlecap Press.