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Two fucking years ago
A month or two after Citibike fucking started up
I was like, fucking hell, I hardly ever ride the fucking subway anymore
So I stopped getting the monthly fucking unlimited fucking Metrocard
And got a pay per fucking ride
And I hardly ever fucking paid for a fucking subway ride:

For fucking months
I'd get on a fucking bike each morning
And I'd be like, hey I'm fucking saving money
And after a couple of months,
Let me fucking tell you,
I was the fastest motherfucking Citbike riding motherfucker
On the motherfucking bike path
Along the fucking Hudson
Going south in the morning.
Not the fastest fucking bike rider --
There were always some fucking Lycrafucks
Who would pass my ass (see "Bike"; the second to last
Motherfucking poem I wrote on August 30th of last fucking year;
Or hear "Bike," here; I think it's the second fucking track).
But never fucking ever did a motherfucker on another Citibike
Ever fucking pass me.

But sometime last October
I started spending a lot more fucking time in Brooklyn
Where there weren't, and still aren't,
A lot of motherfucking Citibike stations.
So I started getting the monthly fucking unlimited again.
And it was a cold fucking winter any fucking way
With fucking ice
And sometimes some motherfucking snow
I didn't want to ride a fucking bike any fucking way.

But then the spring came
And I still wasn't fucking riding
Months would fucking pass
I'd refill my fucking Metrocard
For the motherfucking month
Every fucking month
And take the subway every fucking place.

I just got out of the fucking habit.
When I used to have a fucking pay per ride Metrocard
I'd be saving money every time I took a fucking bike
But with the fucking monthly,
It was like I was fucking wasting money:
And I'd be like, "I might as well take the fucking subway
Those 14 motherfucking blocks; it'll save me a minute or two,
And it's already fucking paid for,"
Instead of just taking a fucking bike
Or fucking walking.

Okay, so anyway (this is a long fucking way to go
For not much of a payoff, really;
If you're still reading this shit, thank you.
You are probably a lot more fucking patient than I am),
On Sunday,
It was time to refill my motherfucking monthly Metrocard,
But I was like, "Fuck it, no:
I haven't been to fucking Brooklyn in weeks;
I'll ride a Citibike tomorrow and Tuesday
To and from fucking work;
And maybe I'll refill the Metrocard Wednesday,
Or Thursday
Or maybe fucking never.
But probably Wednesday or Thursday.

Okay, but, see,
It's been a long fucking time
Since I've rode a fucking Citibike to work--
Almost a fucking year, I fucking think.
And meanwhile, some motherfuckers
Have gotten really fucking good:
I felt really fucking old this morning
Watching motherfuckers whiz past me
On fucking Citibikes.
Some of these motherfuckers
Looked even fucking older than me.

I was watching them fucking pass me,
And thinking, "I've fucking lost it.
I'm fucking old.
I'm too old for this fucking shit.
I'm just going to get
A fucking monthly unlimited
And forget the whole fucking thing."
And maybe I fucking will. Tomorrow.

Maybe I should fucking wear
The bottom of my motherfucking trousers rolled.
My back is fucking aching, and my knees.
I am old. I am old.

So, of course, also, I'm thinking about what I've fucking lost:
Not just my stamina,
But people too.
There's been a lot of fucking loss this fucking year.
And the older I fucking get,
The more I'll fucking lose, I fucking figure.

It may fucking sound like I'm really fucking miserable,
But I'm not. I'm fucking fine.
A little fucking angry, fucking sad, fucking frustrated,
But mostly fucking fine.
Mitchell, aka Tsvi, from fucking high school,
Killed himself a couple months ago.
George O'Malley,
Who played the shit out of that motherfucking xylophone
On the You Suck single and Wuss,
Died last fucking week. It fucking sucks.

But I'm not fucking miserable.
I'm grateful for a lot of fucking things.
I am glad to have known the people I have known.
They've given me so motherfucking much.

So when I saw Mark and Harriet yesterday
At Syd Straw's show,
I gave them big fucking hugs,
And after the show,
I hugged Syd hard too,
Because you never fucking know
When you will never see someone again.

Seriously, I am not fucking sad
Dealing with the loss of someone you care about
Means you fucking cared
Means you fucking felt something
Means you fucking feel something
Means you are fucking alive
And life is good. Life is good.
Life is motherfucking, motherfucking good.


  1. I'm sure they were grateful for how much care you showed them. Sorry for your loss.


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