dad's bike

I’d went for tools but found the bike instead
The neon-blue old cruiser looked like hell
Leaned up against the sawbucks in the shed
Its tires empty, frayed spokes and wires
You said you’d found it dumped behind the thrift
It looked exactly like your boyhood bike
I picture you young, hurtling down a hill
Before brittle bones and electric bills
I didn’t think you knew what leisure meant
No rest or pleasure for so stern a man
I thought your every minute would be spent
On labor, but this newborn cruiser stands
The man who taught me to work in the heat
Has pedals left in his aching feet.