Poetry by D.W. Walker

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Pushbike Heaven

Four wheels bad, two wheels good,
But only if the driving force
Isn't a fossil a million years old
Or a hirsute hulk with tattoos.
But is no wheels even better,
Allowing active travel at human pace?
Or should we go for eight, twelve, sixteen or more wheels
Seatless to encourage an upright stance for sardine-like commuters
Sailing on rails along a grassy tree-lined median strip
Past stationary lines of queueing cars?

None of this should be needed in the twenty first century
Where employer economy turns hot desks into kindling
High rise offices into flats,
As homebound, we stare bug-eyed at our day's work on screen,
Thumbs growing like tree trunks
And our legs wither away.

Legislated exercise must now be the new panacea,
To medical nonsustainability,
Every last twitch micromanaged through embedded sensors
While mandated pushbike mileage boosts local industry.

To be remembered, great leaders must build things,
That last generations and can be seen from space,
Hence the hundred lane bikeways,
Mimicking Martian canals,
Straight and flat, linking every destination,
While the few remaining cars share narrow lanes with pushy pedestrians
Who honk at them as they pass.

Copyright D.W. Walker, 2014

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