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A Kamikaze peddler 
Who follows his nose 
fluorescent green Lycra
A middle finger he shows

Slower than a snail
As wide as truck
Forget the highway code
He pushes his luck.

Side by side they pedal
Three or four deep
Then they become violent 
If you give them a beep

They own the road 
and there’s no mistake 
Zip through red lights
No prisoners they take

Danger personified
Full speed ahead
And then they wonder
Why motorists see red.

The bike’s abandoned
He washes his hands
Peels off his Lycra
He’s got urgent plans

Jumps in his car
To go somewhere fast
A slight incline
He just can’t pass
In front is a pedlar
And It’s Karma at last.

David Cox 11/05/25

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