Your petrol powered boast is trumped
by the muscle moved machine,
its mechanical cleverness is humble and sporting.
It does not growl nor excrete black smog:
un-jammed, graceful, and friendly.
Fuck your clattering, lazy speed,
that metal could have been ten bikes,
with no plastic or fumes to choke on.
Get out and push, breath the air that's still fresh despite you.
Move with other movers, with no glass in-between.
Alistair( He/Him) is a Masters Electronics student at RGU in Aberdeen. He writes infrequently, when inspiration hits, usually as a tool to make sense of his emotions and circumstances. This tends to happen while cycling his bike along the river to the university.