The stolen bike

You decide one November evening to borrow my boyfriend's bike. My partner's bike. You took the bike of the man I live with, and pedalled furiously to the other side of the city, to see your girlfriend. I'm getting fit you declare. Like hell he is says boyfriend, who knows better than me ; my eyes are heavy with maternal lovedust. Next day you return , well next day means thirty six hours later, with no bike in tow. Where's that bike ?

Cool your boots, it's locked up safe at a mate's. Liar I say. Give him a chance says boyfriend, but I know for fact this is crap. I am 90% able to detect his bullshit drug shite lies. That is often enough and on this occasion, definitely sufficent to wipe the smile off his face.

And he didn't even ask, says boyfriend. Now I smile at his innocence, as if he would ever ask for what he wants. He just takes everything I say. Put your finger into the wind and see which way the wind is blowing. he's taking the piss. Your bike's gone for good.