David Allen Sullivan

Long Way from My Home by David Allen Sullivan

Must have been the river that got me lost, and something on the railroad track I cut across that punctured my bike’s front tire, so by the time the stranger mapped where I was on his phone app our apartment was miles off.

Made myself push the bike, but its wheel-light throbbed only when its gear rubbed against the flat flop of the front tire as it groaned through each forced rotation — dark rising from factories, chattering workers pedaling past.