I went to sleep as a woman and woke up as a bike. My joints are stiff and folded like a beach chair. My butt is a saddle. My boobs are tires now. I am left in the garage and my only voice is a bell. On a long ride, another woman who is now a bicycle passes me. This is hard, I say to her, and she says, So was being a woman. Nuts, gears, cranks, flat tire, bent spoke. At night my back wheel is hung from the ceiling like a cow at the butcher. Beside me are three other ex-women of various sizes. Our handlebars touch like holding hands. Nice bike, someone says to the man who rides me. I guess I feel proud.