Poems: The Stationary Bike

So I have this assignment in my poetry class that says I need to attempt to publish some of my business.  So I decided that I'd write some bike poems and throw them up on here.  I ended up with about ten final poems in my chapbook which is entitled Curleh Mustache.  (I'll sell you one for thirty-five dollars or a good pancake recipe (preferably, the recipe from The Golden Harvest).)  Today, I'll start posting a poem a day.  Some are about biking; some are not about biking.  Don't take them too seriously... because I didn't.  Here we go:

     The Stationary Bike

dead lady bugs of last spring rest on the window sill

black and skeletal they crunch into dust

but fail to float into the exercise room breeze

when gym patrons rest their fingers on the ledge and look

through the glass panes towards the indoor basketball court

and we watch the basketball court each day

but nothing notable happens on the basketball court

the people spray their equipment with disinfectant

that has a warning label that covers half the bottle

and they use it like Febreeze dusting everything

including the chubby kid on the bike behind me who bugs

the old lady to my right who smells like a whiskey sour

and the asthmatic who I’ve nicknamed Chris Farley

suffering on the elliptical in front of me because

no windows exist to let in outside breeze

the single window looks to the basketball court watched by all

and janitors clean it wearing masks plastic gloves

and hazmat suits but never quite clean the sill

they set sticky tracks at the top of the window

to mire this spring’s lady bugs

the tracks too low would offend the patrons but

most of them will never crawl that high

resting on the sill and feeling the whir

of the exercise room that sounds like a breeze

but does not feel like a breeze