I saw a bee and I thought of you. You were so yellow and stripey. Yes, it was strange, but I liked it. I liked you. I saw a bicycle, it was you again, but it wasn’t. Your spokes were so elegant: I miss the click-click-clack-click you made when we went places. I liked your hair: like a meadow before the hay is cut. Yellow and full of bugs, and covered in chemicals, and with soil at the base. I liked that about you, the soil. I think of you when the moon’s in view: one half shown to the world, the other hidden, for only the astronauts, the comets and me to see. Cobbled streets hurt my soul, you were so bumpy. You were all you shouldn’t have been and that was exactly what I needed, my sprinkle of salt, little red orange blossom, puff of smoke, grain of rice. I hope you’re somewhere nice.