Again I return with my verse
(Sporadic, it seems like a curse),
On this one of many Fridays
(The ending of my holidays),
We Joyriders turned out of Longhouse,
Heading to Amoy, our new Penthouse…
Rolled out together with Shane
The Boy (we know) with talent,
Still young, yet to have a mane,
Chatted for a brief moment,
On how odd it would surely be
If he were really my student:
On the bike, a riding buddy;
In school… “Shane, why were you absent?”
Well the pace was just nice
(Trying to be concise),
Choonwei and Bernard took to the front,
Leading the pack, the speed quite constant.
No one tried to break away,
On week’s this last working day.
So grupetto it was,
Recovery’s main cause.
We reached Mandai Shell all intact,
It was very good, no one cracked,
Then Bernard started asking all around,
“Turning right anyone? Towards Kranji?”
No response, all of us pointed westbound,
So the birthday boy had no choice… pity,
Largely ignored,
He had implored,
Who would want to follow?
To Kranji?! Gee… Wierdo.
Then we started speeding towards Clementi
(The other direction, away from Kranji),
Heading past Ngee Ann polytechnic
Someone just turned super domestique
And revved up the speed
(As if there was need),
When I noticed Georgie Boy beside me,
So I shouted across to him, saying,
“Why’re they speeding? The pace was so cozy.”
“Some people,” he said, “deserve some flaying.”
(Of course these words he did not converse,
My gross paraphrase just for my verse.)
Now then, past polytechnic number two,
Someone went down! Her bike just went skiddoo!
I was just right behind her,
Saw her land on her shoulder,
Sickening sounds of scrunch and crash,
Hoping her bike had not turned trash.
Most of us stopped, turned back to the crash site,
To check if whoever’s okay, alright.
Indeed she was, thankfully, just a little road rash,
Judith, being a motherly figure, offered water
On that wound there, to remove dirt, to clean it, to splash,
That part of her jersey pretty much in a tatter.
Rocky Chris, being a fatherly figure, offered words:
“Go back now. No one’ll know when you cry in the shower.”
Chris Keiser, on the other hand, had some guilty words:
“I think it was my fault!” And he began to cower,
“I didn’t point out that little small bump,
That’s why she went down with a thump.
Now I won’t be able to sleep!”
(My advice to you: just count sheep)
The rest of the way was so sedate,
No trouble we wanted to create,
Till we reached the Juice Bar
(Our Joyriders’ boudoir),
Where the mood lightened up again,
A debate we had right there and then,
On whether we would stop for anyone who crashed,
(Irregardless of gender)
Upon which Bernard declared out loud unabashed,
“Yes: Male, female, or other.”
So jokes and all spread around,
Laughter was with us unbound,
Till it was time to go
(Back home for more cocoa),
And here I will end my lines,
Looking towards the next time,
Inspired by thin waistlines,
To write an attendance rhyme.
Wen Rui
7 Oct 09
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