Biker Down Poem by Eddie Simpson

Biker down this morning, a sudden reminder
of the danger of an occupation
reliant on a palm's width of rubber

So what was on his mind?

Promotion, the reward
for years of devotion to a company
that manufactures prosthetics
The irony that he may be a beneficiary
in need of a limb or some kind of pin
to continue to function as normal

Or could it be his daughter
A month abroad caught her imagination
She arrived home, hippy in tow
with talk of infestation
He knew she wasn't joking
as he'd been there himself

Perhaps this morning's melody
A song long forgotten
begging for identification
The stirring crescendo poured warmth
over his toast and espresso

The crushing divorce, the corrosive
source of his mental fatigue
Difficult to pinpoint initially
for thirty-five years, no sugar in his tea
until that cuppa underscored the swerve
She was sweet on someone

A momentary hitch, an unreachable itch
a disastrous contortion performed without caution
No chance of success
even for a gymnast