Words: Stuart John Fox, after Allen Ginsberg Illustration: Patrick McDonald

Hüttcross I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.
Hüttcross fifteen dollars and twenty six cents June 12, 2016.
I can’t hold my own line.
Hüttcross when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your stream crossings
I don’t feel good don’t bother me.
I won’t race my bike till I’m in my right mind.
Hüttcross when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the rain?
When will you be worthy of your hundred supporters?
Hüttcross why are your races full of tears?
Hüttcross when will you send your envoys to Wellington?
I’m sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the bicycle store and buy what I need with my good looks?
Hüttcross after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
My machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.

Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?
I’m trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
Hüttcross stop pushing I know what I’m doing.
Hüttcross the C-Grade racers are falling.
I haven’t read the results for months
Hüttcross I feel sentimental about the Slipperies.
Hüttcross I used to be a communist when I was a kid and I’m not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my garage for days on end and stare at the bicycles on the wall.
When I go to Upper Hutt I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx
My mother thinks I’m perfectly right.
I won’t say the Lord’s Prayer.
I have muddied vision and rim brake vibrations.
Hüttcross I still haven’t told you what you did to my bicycle after I came home from the Hutt.

I’m addressing you
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Cyclocross Magazine
I’m obsessed with Cyclocross Magazine.
I read it every week
It’s covers stare at me every time I slink past Magnetix
I read it under stairs of Lambton Quay alleyways
It’s always telling me about interval training. Business men are interval training. Public servants are interval training. Everyone is interval training but me.
It occurs to me that I am Hüttcross
I am talking to myself again.