A Cavalry of road racers unsaddle from their shiny 30 speeds
Fresh off the pavement where they soared single file
All bright skin tight wind blown sponsorship with reflective
Glasses; they could have been on a space age mission to
Free some planetary colony from intergalactic terrorists.
But now with their glasses unmasked and ponies tethered
They invert light speed and single file like ants into the coffee shop,
Revealing their secret: they are simple earthlings at Carlton and Parliament.

And one then tails off from the pack like a fighter jet gone a.w.o.l.
And remains outside squinting in the sun.
He pulls a credit card cell phone from some hidden
Compartment in his skintight wind blown space suit
And places a call, to command headquarters, no doubt.
And I see a chasing blue and white sky reflecting on the lens of his glasses that now keep his hair back,
Reminding me the blue sky of this world only imprints on the universal black
And I think of the lack of scheduled meetings in space,
How little activity there actually is.
And the constant of creeping regularity in time,
Reaching out beyond the complete mundane
Dawns on me like a dark horizon claims this to be the future as it eats the Now.