Coffee in hand, I stand
Slightly out of breath. My legs
Ache, and my shirt is sticky
With sweat; my socks are, too.

I manoeuvre: place the plastic cup
Carefully on the concrete sill
Staring, to ensure that it won’t
Slip, and I begin to fold my bike.

The city rustles around me.
I look to the sky: the weather’s
Alright; I can see some grey
Clouds coming, chilling the air.

The door opens. At last
You’re there: stepping aside
And I walk by with my bike
Sharing a kiss on the way.

We take the lift up
Four levels – your floor
With a smoker always on the balcony
Though usually not the same one.

We walk inside your flat, the air thick
With your mother’s cooking. We slip
Into your room, where the air’s more sweet:
It smells sweetly of you.

Exhausted, I rest my bike
Temporarily aside. Place my helmet
On the saddle, and hang up my coat
Bright yellow against your florid black.

I slip off my shoes, you offer me some tea.
I thank you kindly, and we share another kiss
While you steal me in a hug
One shoe still on my foot.

And you slip back out. Shoes off
I crash on the sofa, languid
My head slinks back, cushioned.
I close my eyes and sink in softly.

With effort, I lift my legs to stretch
Raise my arms. A flush of pain
Runs through me, and I groan. My thighs hurt –
I cycled so quickly to get here.

27.V.2026