The Bicycle Thief

Some sounds have
never been the same
since Nam: fireworks
displays, car back
fires, any sudden,
unexpected loud noise
in the night, but
the one that lays me
out flat, eating dirt
faster than a cry of,
"Incoming" is the sound
of an unoiled bicycle,
wheeling slow, deliberate,
rhythmic, unseen as
the homemade bomb in
the old man's covered
basket strapped to
the handlebars and set
to explode once the lid
was lifted, downtown,
high noon, wherever
men gathered.