Bike Boy

My brother is a bike boy,
Wheels spinning dusk till dawn,
360s over benches,
He'll give a careless yawn.

My brother is a bike boy,
His hands are stained with oil,
Eating bowls of cereal,
Shoes coated in leaves and soil.

My brother is a bike boy,
With jargon on the tongue,
'Full-cab to endo 180',
The English is too long.

Rubber hands like bike grips,
Shins battered black and blue,
He'll never stop, he'll never pause,
Cos he's a bike boy through and through!

This is my brother!