Bike pump

Each week

I pump up my car tires

With the bike pump I keep in my trunk

Most people would say

‘Why don’t you get a new car?’

I respond with ‘Someday’

Although it makes me cringe

When the light goes off on my dashboard

When I’m standing there on the asphalt

Pump in hand, I realize this isn’t that bad

Not a cloud in the sky

Mountains cover the horizon line

Temps in the 70s chill my spine

You could say I’m doing fine

Anxiety created by squeaky brakes

Stresses me out and makes me break

The mood

When there isn’t much I can really do

Other than make the best of the way I choose

To spend my time

Rather than standing in line

At that nearest bar

Or spending money to fix a car

I don’t really need

Because everything I need

Is within a couple hundred feet

But I feed

Off the stress of the people

Consumed by greed

Spending so much on what’s not important

They can’t afford to cook a meal

Those opinions shouldn’t matter to me

Only should care about the ones

Who want me to succeed

So I write these poems

From the patio of my home

Because when I’m alone

These thoughts are free to roam

To a page

Where people get a taste

Of what it’s like

To live my life