In the bustle of daily commuting I find
I increasingly seem to be falling behind
its puzzling and rather depressing to see
just how many people walk faster than me.
I know that itís not a pedestrian race
but thereís still competition to stay with the pace.
Iím still in a hurry, my pace isnít slow
but theyíre making me look like Iíve nowhere to go.
They bustle and weave to the head of the line
like their job is much more important than mine.
Trying to pretend that as swift over-takers
theyíre vigorous, go-getting movers and shakers.
I used to take pride
in my spirited stride
and would gleefully wonder how long it would take
for the slow and unfit to be left in my wake.
I really donít know when the slowdown began
but Iím starting to look like an ambling man.
Now I have to accept that a healthy young lad
might, in a fair race, beat a something-ish dad
But that round little fat girl half my size
with an audible rasp from her corduroy thighs
whose short chubby arms seem to scoot her along
will also dart past in the hurrying throng.
And did I imagine or actually see
her teddy bear rucksack waving at me?
Although she is young and undoubtedly keen
she isnít athletic or sporty or lean,
her arse is the oversize waddling kind,
so how does she constantly leave me behind?
How can I challenge her? what can be done -
an undignified trot, a desperate run?
Options are few
but I know what Iíll do
to get back in control -
Ö..Iíll affect a cool stroll.
You hurry past baby, I really donít mind,
Iím a man unconcerned with the day to day grind.
Fly to your workplace, fast as you can
but me, Iím a loose liviní, slow-walkiní man,
just takiní my time and enjoyiní the day,
not rushiní around in that hot-headed way.
And wherever I go you can safely assume
that nothiní goes down until Iím in the room.
Iím takiní a stroll so the folks gotta wait.
And no mother**cker tells me that Iím late.
Thereíll be envious glances, questioning talk
Ďbout the self-possessed guy with nonchalant walk.
Brows will be wrinkled, goals re-appraised,
serious questions on life could be raised.
And Iíll draw on a cigarette cool as can be
as they slow to a casual saunter like me.