To the girl
cycling
down old
broad street

south-south-
westerly
wearing a
blue helmet

‘thank-you’
I had so
little to live
for before

you came
blowing
past with your
skirt ripple

your thighs
clasping the
saddle
flexing their

white sides
their
pulse of
firm & fat

trainers bent
over peddles
determined
pushing

yours simply
forward
past my work
break cigarette

and if I
paused, it
was only to
worship

something that
lasted no
more than
not long enough.