Kamikaze Karma

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