The Loop

The Loop

The heat is on
as I begin the loop,
out of bounds
leave the safe compound.

Start to sweat,
pedal hard
past the bizarre abandoned golf course on my right.
Khatiyah de-gassing plant on my left,
where two gas burning candles, constantly celebrate.
Ahead, cat's eyes sparkle in severe sunshine.

Begin to climb the incline,
my replacement Fulstone route.
Same distance,
so very different.

Jagged rocks,
small prickly bushes,
a discarded bucket.
Blown out tyres,
tracks in sand,
empty bottles and cans.
A cracked open hard hat,
yolk free and void.

Two trucks thunder by
then silence.
Only the whirring of my wheels
and the thoughts in my head.

Broken pipes lay scattered,
colossal cigars and cigarettes.
Is this a giant's playground?

I reach the summit of the slight up hill
and prepare for take off in top gear.
In the heat hazy distance
large, rocky jebels line the horizon.

Hurtling down into the hot head wind
approaching the bus and truck busy road,
I swerve to avoid a camel grid on my obstacle course.

I spy with my little eye,
a lost and lonely glove
with a weathered finger pointing left.
Carrying straight on, I ignore the detour.

Back in the comfort of the compound,
birds shelter and twitter under the Sidra.
Bulging from the palms, dates begin to ripen
safely gathered in green nets.
My palms ooze sweat,
my helmet trapped head feels like it's stuck under one of those Granny hair dryer hoods.

I come full circle.
Loop the loop, back to base.
Ecstatic to see my home place.
Replenish roots,
feel the cool wind on my face.
Walk the woods
frequent the pubs
share the same space,
with you.