The store bagger sat there, right beside the bike rack 

I pulled up and removed my lock 

He said, “People have been stealin’ bikes”

I told him I’d be right back

I spun the numbers like a clock 

As he said, “It infuriates me; we all work too hard for our money”

I just nodded 

There was a news crew across the way that applauded

I’d heard the story – a disabled woman’s bike had been stolen

Some good people came together to buy her another 

It was gifted to her right there 

Sometimes I feel like all humanity’s foldin’

It’s nothing new but the thought of theft makes me shudder

Just a few months ago I was on the phone with some scammers 

Wolves dressed as sheep

Of God’s justice I hope they get their keep

I remember what Jesus said 

Because my blood starts to boil when I think of it (scammers, frauds, thieves, liars)

There’s undoubtedly a standard that’s higher 

But there’s something else among us that never gets tired

A habit we can’t kick

Deceit and lust 

Envy and mistrust 

All the neural pathways have been hijacked

Even the “best” of us is whacked

I was mad today thinking that someone would steal 

My beloved Schwinn is a stallion

But Jesus alluded to a plank in my own eye 

What is it?

As I zero in on the sawdust in the other guy 

Did I text a friend when I was on the clock?

Was someone underpaid in the making of my bike frame?

I know I put that grocery store bagger in his own bag in my mind

I tuned him out after a few seconds even though he was kind

How much of the earth did I destroy by what I bought in the grocery store?

And what’s this appetite of mine that always wants more?

My eyes have been taken over by planks 

It’s worse than anyone thinks

Your predicament too

I came out of the store and my bike was still there – locked

The bagger guy was gone 

The woman with the new bike was doing laps in the lot 

I left a trail of plastic that fell out of my pockets 

It all ended up in the bay

Turns out the disabled woman on the bike is one I treat 

The bagger guy wasn’t deceived

His mom, the bike rider, is a victim of more than one thief: also Munchausen syndrome

He knew it 

Paid off the thieves to take her old bike 

It’s all convoluted 

His paycheck was partly the money I make from charging his mother’s Medicare 

The news crew in the parking lot was never really there

They were also predators disguised as sheep 

Looking at that fancy bicycle till the woman riding it falls asleep

I pedaled away, rubbing my eyes 

Under my tires, leaves lay like butterscotch 

Is it all an illusion

My eyes are too cloudy

We’re all in collusion – with evil

But I trust wholeheartedly, somehow 

That God is on watch 

Right now it doesn’t really make sense

But in the end I trust that Death will get its recompense

And that we’ll all justly ride away