"Bicycle" by Abbie J. Bergdale

I look for your stolen bicycleeverywhere. I keep thinkingI'll see a boy riding itand I'll know it's yoursbecause of the blinking red lightand the empty bottle holder.I will push him off, call hima bastard, stompon his balls so he can't get up.I sent back your belongings in three heavyboxes—your Clint Eastwood collection,the Fender guitar. I threw out the bronzebird (his beak never broke)and I burned the vanilla-scented candlepast the wick. But some boyhas your bicycle. I need to find him.