I notice

he rides through a red light

couple of junctions

his reflexes not being

what they once were

d’you think I say

that sometimes

we see the holes

in our own raincoat first?

or do we ignore them

because we’ve got used to them?

he looks over like

he’s thinking of something

might catch him out

some ambush

why? he asks puzzled

you got holes

where you don’t want them?

he looks for the waitress

wanting coffee

ammunition I guess

for what might come next

hows my riding? I ask next

he sighs a little

then offers

I didn’t want to say

but you’ve gotten slower y’know?

& we laugh together

call each other names

go out & ride some miles more