Anger, With a Side of Sadness and Shame

I’ve been avoiding this today.

I even took a ride in my wife’s car

To look at the place where I parked

Yesterday morning for work,

So maybe, by some miracle

I wouldn’t have to say,

My Harley still wasn’t there

Because some bastard stole it.

So I’m checking in with anger.

I can feel the anger churning my belly,

Tightening my shoulders.

It started out as vengeance.

There was a brief wanting the guy

To wipe out doing eighty during a high speed chase.

Now I just want it back.

I want to walk outside and not notice it’s gone,

Not feel helpless and stupid like it’s my fault.

That’s when I flip to wanting to cry,

And I hear my old man asking

Why can’t anything ever go right?

And that makes me want to cry, too,

Because nothing much ever did go right for him

And I wonder if that’s who I’m turning into,

Which I’m not, but

I’m angry at the bastard who stole my bike,

Being responsible for sending me back
To feel this crap again.