He rides

The man in front is large, clearly large
The kind of size of a rugby front row,
a player in his youth, but sadly
he's not there now. Not many of us are.
He covers his bulk with baggy shorts
He covers his head with a helmet
He covers his chin with a ginger beard
He covers the gaps in the traffic with himself
I sit in his slipstream hiding from the wind
and chat to him at traffic lights.  He seems nice.

In front

The girl in front wears pink,
She rides an upright bike with mudguards
Her ponytail flicks from side to side
Shoulders sway when she rides uphill
Backwards glances, wondering who's behind
A deferential step aside at ASLs
But she's still faster than me,
And I like watching her ponytail bobbing, bobbing, bobbing.