Sunday, 23 October 2016

Riding my activa

( A scooter frees you , unlike a car , that enslaves you , imprisoning  you in a tin box. To the man who taught me this simple mantra of happiness and freedom , sincere and humble thanks)


The moment you take off
You know you are a show off
The machine knows you
and  minutely obeys you

Your arms are caressed
by the breeze
Your nose has started
to freeze

The chill bites
into your knuckles
The sun fights
outdoing your chuckles

You live in glee
You are totally free
for few precious minutes
flying without chutes

You breathe in grass
flowers and dung
In a life that is a farce
and high strung

there are pleasures few
that present to you
one of them, by far
is riding the "activa"

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