Clearing Ground - Poetry by Martin Alexander

The ageing biker's boast

My Yamaha Viagra is a fine and trusty steed:
Over middle-age we ride rough-shod at death-defying speed.
I hold my bulging belly in to keep my profile lean
And hide my mane of thin grey hair 'neath a helmet black
and mean.
Our handlebars have tassels, the aerial’s a whip
We both have leather saddlebags that hang on either hip.
We cut up all the taxis, the Ferraris and the Rolls
We lean and swerve impressively, avoiding all the holes.
Old ladies flee at our approach – they scurry safe from harm –
And when we mount the pavement they all scatter in alarm.
The chicks all gawp to see their dream, with passion they all gasp
But in the stench of spinning wheels we both elude their grasp.
The twin exhausts, a lion’s roar, announce with manly pride
That here’s a man that any gal would swoon to be beside.

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