Sunday 3 September 2017

Bicycle (September)



September turns perilous. Orderly oBikes take all known cards. Their seats are glossy as obsidian. They are reassuring yellow, spinning down springtime boulevards, ride the dappled dappledom. But all is not well in paradise. They rent the fabric of decorum. They are left on stairwells and cubicle apexes. They are flaneurs with intent. “They’re layabouts!” spouts Mayor Windup-Clock, “Get them off the footpath!” Rumours spread. They’re feral, fly at night over rooftops, scaring our beloved fruit bats. They dive bomb Albert Park Lake. oBikes eat up space. They’re drones, countless, their yellow is ‘significant’. They transmit signals in unbreakable codes.

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