IM

Forget the rubbers,
I'm riding my bike home
And hard steel rakes clean
Any hope of company
Not that I'm the fastest
Or the best at picking routes
But running ragged
At hours beyond
The wet tar rolls
With that plllllllllllll
And hills burn like
Magazines
Green and Blue
Each stop a considered
Do or don't
Arriving home
Routine takes over
Alone once again
Impossible man.