Slow down for that cyclist

You know me well yes you do. I’m the one who’s edging past, squeezing through. That perpetual irritation, that’s in your way, and wasting your time. Why am I in the middle of your path
Going too slowly.

Tell me, those pennies you’ve been spending. They are ours. And how much farther will they get you? Here I am. My head surrounded to protect me from your kind. I am shining like a fluorescent light bulb. It was your idea to get further and go faster and all for free. And where will it get you? Not to point B.
A total waste.

My fuel is me. And maybe I don’t want to inhale the festering fumes, which you exude, whilst I fly. And tell me why do I have to dress like a clown, just so you cannot refuse to see me? And still you do, don’t you? Still you will not see that you’re movement is not free. You keep proclaiming that you cannot. But I say yes you can, you just don’t want to. And I say it as I pass you by, in your dirty queues, day after day, round and round. So please, do not park in my path. When I am going so fast,
In the right direction.