Red

[Nicolefinley]

A toolbox in a shed
A hole in the head
An impetuous game
A phantom the blame
No, the Self does not wrong
Just pedals along
A bike in a shed
A faint, peeling red

Switch on to begin, to start, to okay
Shift up to move forward, along with the day
Bring the riches of olive, if perhaps I should fail
Fall down to the buttons, a child's tale

And back in the shed
To find my head
A bolt and a jerk
Or a new arm instead

Switch on to restart, to retry, to "once more"
Walk straight into "salutations!" with the kitchen door
Without mind we are nothing
But parts in a shed

We all have the pieces
But painted them red.