As the light went green
I'd just then managed
to worm my way past
that tightly packed gaggle
of plastic clicking sounds
and expensive looking gear
Then someone's yelling
in my right ear
"mate,
you look like your place in this world
is at the back of the pack,
so why don't you do everyone else a favour
and stay behind us at red lights"
No witty replies
somewhat lost for words
and breath
all I could do,
as he went racing by
while eyeballing me,
was sneer back
and wave at him
to keep his eyes
-on the road-
Not me,
riding my heavy
not bought this year,
non carbon fibre frame
not bought boutique
for four thousand
from some
Brunswick Street Cycles
type-store
bike.
Not me,
wearing a thick,
not especially form hugging,
not lycra
not gortex
or brightly coloured
striped,
or visibly brand-named
heavy black
jacket.
Pedalling
in the high gears
at the same
lumbering speed
that I had used
cruising through
all those other red lights
this winter.
I watched
those powerful quads
and calves
churning through
and ahead
past the next cyclist
he had failed
to overtake himself
when the light
went green.
His formfitting
lycra spandex pants
had a logo for
Powerade
printed on the back.
As hurtled down
St Kilda road
I had to concede that.
he had a point.
As he put it,
My place in the world
probably
was not to ride around
with a big
sports drink logo
stamped across my arse.
And that's the bottom line.
-Peace
.
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