You ride one handed down the street

You must be ten or so

I wonder since the riots why your mum has let you go.

Even in this quiet town: unrest.

The thing the world knows best.

You cycle like nothing’s wrong

Waiting for the lights to turn.

Your head spins to look at me.

Maybe you thought I was the threat.

Not the world spinning out of control

Not the fires

Out by one hundred miles

Bike boy

You won’t be able to keep the world out

Bike boy

Enjoy your last years of ignorance.