Paul J Penton – Songwriter

Central station & CBD

Pigeons and seagulls
a swarm of them eating something
thrown by passers by
it’s a living mass of individuals making a whole

A Chinese woman with a mole
out of proportion
the size of a finger nail

Westpac bank -George street
a CHUBB Security van
parked outside
A nervous security officer on standby
near the door
looking for trouble
a squat fat man
is hanging round
he drives the car
that precedes the van
it all has an air of suspicion

Hungry Jacks
A simple cup of tea
couldn’t understand a word
said by the serving girl
three repetitions
to understand what she means
the decor in here is ‘happy days’
lots of chrome and spangly seats in glittery silver
circa 1950

a Sleeping bag
and milk crates outside the
Sydney plaza center
is it an installation?
what might it mean?

three beggars on various corners
two just sitting
one moaning a bit
and then a guy with a shoe shine stand
just sitting on folded knees
almost Bhuddist
he’s got a sign

I am homeless – shoe-shine
struggling
please help me
I am having a go
if you would like to sponsor me
I would be helpful
I also polish briefcases
Jesus loves you

What if he packs up from here
goes to his high class apartment
takes off his wig
and becomes something else?

I donlt think so as he
He goes to the bin
to retrieve a cigarette butt discarded
the contrast is interesting
being here
in the heart of the financial district

the Commonwealth bank building
when it used to owned by the Commonwealth
a coat of arms
emblazoned above each doorway
Corinthian columns
sandstone

Martin place
A man with a trolley
of Australia post delivery boxes
pauses as some of them teeter off
dropping onto the pavement
he turns around to re-secure them
looks to be late fifties
is this all he’s ever done?
what is he looking forward to in his retirement?

I Follow a bloke on a mobile phone
“ended up on my arse three times”
three times he says
was he skiing I wonder?
Black suit with thick and thin grey lines
well clipped grey hair
a satchel under his arm

Curtin place
suited men having quick lunches
stockbroking lunch breaks
the eateries getting ready for lunch
making mountains of food
Mongolian chickens
Saskatchuan beef
ready for the lunchtime rush

Circular Quay

Looking to the opera house
Overcast
sun indistinct
as is the light
reflecting from the white sails
I’ve got a ringside seat
with my Rice paper rolls
and bottle of fizz
for ten bucks

there’s a round of Didgeridoo
with Duff Duff accompaniment
eating my lunch
with a choir of jealous seagulls
vying for my attention

what if….
I got back to the station
reached for my wallet
and it wasn’t there!
no money
no proof of who I am
credit cards hanging in the wind
how do you prove who you are?

Ettalong Motel

expansive water views
the fluorescent light in
the bathroom hums with a life of its own
metal plugs with a chain in the sink
the furniture circa ’68
as are the light fittings

A bar heater close to the roof
electrical cable frayed
no safety tag
so old it’s yellowed
with nicotine
and all the cigarette smoke
since 1960
a great companion for the helicopter
approaching from the distance
of the fluorescent bathroom light

Dinner at the pub
babbling voices
at the Ettalong Beach Hotel
a Whitesnake video
On the wide-screen LCD
Buffy hair
and backlit silhouettes
and stadium performances
and girls half dressed

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Avalon

A woman and child
he’s two to three
sitting directly behind me
at the terminal
asking lots of questions
as a child does
inane things
about the plane as it taxis in
about how tall the people are
to be able to get into the door
‘up so high’

she hugs him and snuggles
making me uncomfortable
why? He’s just a kid!
It’s natural to be that loving
it seems weird
’cause I know nothing of it
being affectionate
she’s so affectionate
I find it overwhelming,
threatening
but to her it’s normal

his name is Mohammed
now this I find unusual
he looks to me to be West Indian
his hairstyle Rastifarian
and she’s middle European
why name the kid Mohammed?
She wears no head scarf
what is the situation
between her and the father?

Airports

It always amazes me
how people manage to get there on time
to stand-by,
to get on a plane
and actually fly
there’s so many permutations and combinations
so many factors
that mean you might miss the flight
a traffic jam
a missing taxi
so many things
and some do.

But if you count
the two hundred fifty
maybe only one or two go missing
Sometimes they’re called out
in traffic announcements
‘If Mr XYZ is in the terminal
Please go to gate Y,
your plane is ready for immediate departure”

At the gates we sit
like restless cattle
filling up the moments
with sips from drink bottles
and vending machines
and small operations
that have a monoploy
on the corridors
every time we fly
there’s a new one
encroaching on the walkway
ready to burr your transit
with sandwhiches and drinks
and offers of wine

You stand in line
with the flimsy ticket
it flaps about as they try to scan it
then into the capsule
you’re locked down tight
if you’ve been clever you’ve reserved your seat
somewhere near the front
for a fast exit
with carry on baggage
where you walk down the stairs
to a different city atmosphere
walking on the apron
while the engines are humming
past those dormant silver stairs
that are still ringing
with the clumping feet
of other passengers
getting close to the exit door
as aviation fuel begins to fill the air.

Airport train

Stupidity
No return tickets for the city train
so – $14.70 one way
but no discount for loyalty!
14.70 the other!
Slipping down now
with the perambulations
of the escalator
and almost imperceptible whiz
glints of light reflect
on the silvered rails
from overhead lights

The announcements are clear
not too many echoes
what was it like during the blitz I wonder?
lumping about my 25 kilos
on back and pack
should I have weighed in first?

people with cases with wheels
make that hollow plastic sound
as they slip over the cracks in the tiles
7 more minutes and I’ll be under way
to circular quay,
via central

looking at those tall white sails
I’ll peruse the goings on
just another passenger
just another tourist
watching the ferries come and go
checking the waves
around three I’ll board
the Parramatta Cat
and go gliding over the harbour

CIRCULAR QUAY CAFE

Ferrys come and go
the Friendship, the Sirius
background music filters in
just the high frequencies
the hi hats and the guitars
a cappucino machine grinds beans
two girls to the right
talk about office politics
and things that matter to them
looks can be deceiving and
you know you’re the real deal
tea costs 3.50 your not paying for the tea
you’re paying for the infrastructure
your paying for the view the scenery

The Manly ferry – the Queenscliffe
the smell of the sea colours the air
Sydney harbour bridge
full of criss-cross lattices
caterpillars of people crossing the top
doing the bridge walk
the trill of the diesel’s in the air
as we slide across watery grey green
sun obscured behind clouds
a globe of white
past a private marina
I still don’t get how you build bridges in water
how you get the foundations
down so deep?
grey light smoke almost vertical
from a chiney
against a yellow washy sky

Parramatta

Sitting in the Port bar
Parramatta
A fellow with dark skin
a bit of a Mugabe
talks to a woman at the far end

the water from the Parramatta
tumbles over a breakwater
Later I learn it’s the spillway
between the fresh and the sea water
it also has a fish ladder, allowing them to climb
‘and dive in the briney side if they desire

The conversation is just out of reach
I want to lean my ears in closer
to see what these two are talking about
It has those rises and falls
that African way of speaking English
sounding educated
she doesn’t say much

some heavy clouds are advancing overhead
heavy doughnut clouds
it starts raining very hard
sitting on the edge of an awning
drops are pattering hard against the canvas
like when you’re camping
the rain flicking in harder and harder
moving back and back
retreating to stay dry
The plastic seats now have mercurial gatherings
pools of liquid that move like quicksilver

“So that’s where I’m at”
I overhear as they move closer
to shelter from the downpour
where might that be I wonder?
Is this a business meeting
I try to gauge the flow through his
black square rimmed glasses
“most of them are people”
“You got a head start”
Is she a consultant?
a celebrant?
why meet in this otherwise deserted cafe
near a ferry stop
maybe this is just the left-overs of a long lunch
and social networking

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June 3

On the streets

Shuffling the street
in old painters jeans
ragged beard
looking in bins
for cigarette butts
picking things off the ground
half smoked cigarette buts

gatherings of people
outside Flinders Street station
sitting on milk crates
with guitars
they seem happy

Train

A train at night
punching through a corridor of black
illuminated by white squares of office buildings
the illusion of movement
the way you seem to be moving
when another train beside you
is gliding away from the station

NANDOS

the kitchen alcove
rows of ticket orders
the staff talking to each other
getting it right above the
roar of the exhaust fans
three people on different stations
concentrating on different things
trying to make order out of chaos
in this busy lunchtime
I unwrap my package  a classic wrap
and let the Portugese peri peri
flame my tongue with delight

what you believe to be truths
I had to change two long life globes in the kitchen
energy efficient lamps
the truth as told is that these will last
five times longer than the others
the reality as experienced
is that these have not lasted any longer
than the standard filament bothers and sisters
so why pay 3 times the price
for something that doesn’t last as well?
It sort of reminds me that CD’s
were meant to be indestructible –
but as we all know
they have a life
scratches cause glitches
nothing IS perfect

Roadworks and traffic lights
all slowing me down tonight
…….I’m driving for your love
Hazyness in the valley
along Fertree Gully
looking European
the haze in the air

He’s got a Doctorate in Denial
and a wide angle smile
got a hard drive for a heart
women don’t know how to handle him
but don’t know where to start
women try to program him
but they don’t know where to start

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Smelling Greville Street

I walk home determined to focus on smell
On Chatham Street there’s a row of wheelie bins
In camouflage green
I smell them and the remainder of something
that needs washing out
it’s pure rot
Along side the Coles car park I smell a sausage sizzle
Somebody raising donations for some charity
A fresh plant smell just near the beauty shop
And the smell of cooking meat
down near the Babble café
Saturday morning breakfasters are all lined up
Indoors and out in well coiffed manner
Is it about eating or being seen there?
Fresh squeezed oranges or orange peel
Seems to chime and ring my nasal bell
Just near the pedestrian crossing- source unidentified
An Overalled man is painting the trim
Of another Greville street shop that will soon be closing
They all do
nothing lasts
The rents are too vast
for anybody to run a long term business
Fresh paint stings the air
The lingerie shop seems to emit a smell of newness
But in a plastic sort of sense
What is their stuff made of?
Café Oliver
Doses out ground coffee
And a cappuccino machine
That broadcasts to the street
One of those soon to close clothing shops
Doufs out a kick drum beat
It seems to suck the life out of the air
Plants near the rail lines are rotting
The aged care centre sends cigarette smoke curling
Right back to my adolescence
And just near the music shop
Deoederant arrives
From a couple walking past
My attention is transfixed
By a flaming yellow tree
Showing the best of autumn.

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Breakfast – Sat May 16

Light rain this morning
Just mist
And the occasional big bits
Full drops
But I can duck for cover at any moment
So I’m not too worried
I sprint past a Greek grandmother
Bent over double
Moving along at a slow slow shuffle
Even I am not going at a speedy pace
So she must be halfway to Nirvana in her inner space
A woman in a grey flannelette track suit
Throws her head out the street
I think she’s looking at the grandmother
She’s got on several layers of make up
Heavy pink lipstick and matching trim
On the epaulets of the suit
It’s a pretty tight fit
And I can see a roll of fat showing through
She doesn’t seem to mind it though
Good on her
At breakfast I wonder about tea tags
Who invented them?
these colour schemes
Red for English Breakfast
Green for Irish
Grey – of course- for Earl grey
Orange for Pekoe
Is everyone just copying the imprint of Twinings?
The egg in the egg and bacon roll
is somewhat watery- runny
I asked for no salt and pepper today
And I’m not missing it
The helium air ship roll it’s all contained in
Wants to lift off to the moon

A Skylift crane
With steel girder arms
And the various numbers of tonnes
That each segment can lift
Pauses in front of me
In unmistakable yellow
There’s a fellow sitting smack bang center
Neither left nor right hand drive
A monocycle swipes by
The rider pedaling fast and determined
One of the girls rushes out of the café
With a bag of rolls and a cardboard cup of coffee
Negotiates her way across Chapel
And up the street
A VC commodore with the windows down
Edges in to take up a spot where someone’s leaving
A bearded man with welcoming face is accompanied by a small dog
Sitting on his lap
With it’s face hanging out the drivers side window
I wonder is it his dog
Or is he just taking it out?
I run into Carol from St.Kilda Church
We talk about politics and retirement
And how she’s just been overseas
Berlin, Prague, London, Paris
Great places
We share experiences
About the weather and the cities
I talk about the writing and how I’m going places
And how in just a few more years
I’ll be leaving the company
If I could just find enough income
For doing nothing
To satisfy me.

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Station Feb 14

Youths getting onto a train
With ripped bell bottom jeans
Some corporate types
Heading back to the city to catch other connections
The madness of rush hour
The collision of passengers on the concourse
The information booth
Granting customer satisfaction
Shrouded in shrubbery
Just dressing up plain wooden boards
Are they assuaging their guilt
After the recent ‘hot day’ disasters
Where fifty percent of their services Where cancelled
Or useless
Because of some dispute involving air conditioners
And that other excuse of buckled tracks
Two thousand pairs of feet thunder toward dinner and home
High heels clip clop on the naked ground
This rushing river of human traffic
will become still and dissipate to a grave yard
by the time I leave three hours from now
With a shopping bag full of eggs and bacon
For a breakfast meting
With a friend I haven’t seen for quite some while.
In the supermarket some twenty year old girls
With acne and tight blue jeans
The other with pony tails
and a tightly tailored jacket
Is obviously mouthing off about her relationship issues
“Cheated on me, Lied to me, abused me”
If I was her – I’d be leaving him

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Humid May

Front door – humidity unusual for May
creepers with purple flowers
droop over a fence and yellow ones too
Autumn leaves swirl
Pushed by a tide of wind
They come in a wave
Into the shore of the pavement
As if they’ve come
From the greater ocean

Hyperdrive Life

I’m moving at half everyone’s pace,
they’re all rushing around me like busy worker ants
but I have no need to give chase
I’ll wander and observe
While they measure every crack in path
By the speed that they can get ‘there’
Hey! Why should I be going a million miles an hour
‘cause every one else is?
Why?

Is it natural?
This hyperspeed life
Is it natural?
This life in overdrive
Is it healthy?
Is it good for ‘me’?
Life in hyperdrive
Where does it get us?
And where does it take us?
It’s a blur, a flash,
A sound bite of colour
A video replay of the hour
Everything done this instant
NOW!
Our attention span
smaller than the head of a pin
We’ve just got to keep entertaing our selves
With news and information
And reality TV situations
They must be inserted
So we can regurgitate them
On Twitter and Facebook
with the quizzes and pokes
And the baudy jokes
Is there any thing new in this?
This life in hyperdrive
This Millennium Falcon life
This Star Trek Enterprise life
This Star wars Death Star surpise
Mr Spock would say it is not logical

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MEDICAL PROCEDURES

It started out as an irregularity
a flittering of the heart
Somewhere on the left
The ventricle started flipping
like a flag in a manic breeze
it woke me up at 6 a.m.
as it had done several times this week and last
and I decided it was time to do something about it.

I made the appointment at Chapel Gate
1045
and bundled into the Getz around 1025
I knew it wasn’t going to take that long
but I thought
“just in case”
I’d better be there early

I hand them the Medicare card
it’s green uniform somewhat soothing
they checked their facts against mine
in the database
and it all seemed to add up-
apart from the post code-
duly amended

I take the seat by the window
looking out at the Dandy road traffic flow
in it relentless push and pull
against the heave-ho of the lights
the obligatory television is yawning
with Kerry -Anne in the corner-
the volume not to high thankfully
and there’s only one other person beside me sitting here
I’m surprised by the lack of magazines on the table
just a couple of local rags and some health magazines
that’s it.
I choose to read nothing.
Above the head of the woman is another screen
full of medical advertising
she’s carrying on a conversation on the mobile phone in a dream
oblivious to the sign just to her right
asking that mobile’s be shut down

The only other sound I can hear is the air conditioner
intruding
blowing,
flowing a seam of air into the chamber where we wait

there’s some quite old men with walking frames
who continuously appear
speaking dialects with which I’m unfamiliar
then I remember the last doctor I saw seemed Russian
or maybe that was Rumanian.

Dr Renata makes an appearance
in a fawn dress and dark brown vest
She seems sort of Eastern block
Is this a collective I wonder?
As we sit she hastily departs –
remembering something for one of the former patients
I sit down to digest her office
pictures of bodies- “signs of obesity”
the cardio vascular system
pictures of somebody hang gliding
and possibly parachuting
I wonder if that’s her
never met her before so I wouldn’t know

I explain the problem when she returns
this fidgeting heart on the left
and also the pains I get
sometimes when I sing
I am wondering if it’s bad technique
but another part of me senses something is growing
A fear of cancer growing in me
and it seems to be getting worse lately
but I rationalize it’s just technique
must REMEMBER to breathe

hopping on the table
the blood pressure machine
wraps itself around my upper arm
and begins to puff automatically
a noose seems to surround me
She mentions it might be a little high
The ‘Blood’ pressure
lie down…
The machine then does a series of tests
over the next couple of minutes
where we both say nothing
and I’m left to listen
to the sound of air conditioning
this time just audible over the rumble
of the Dandenong road noise polution
in reception it was a rumble
here it’s a gargle
but it’s present
after the fourth inflation
the life buoy deflates and she says it’s pretty normal

She pokes about with a stethoscope
marginally chilly
she places it over the spot that’s concerning me
then to the right
down the side and behind
and then to the spot I’m complaining about
where it gets sore
when I’m singing out
she reports
nothing unusual.

We chat again
she mentions yoga
I say “yer, I used to do it one time”
And meditation
but that seems like ten minutes I’m wasting,
but I know it makes me feel more calm
so why is it not a priority
compared to the six other million things I have to do TODAY
can I afford those minutes-
I think the answer is yes
but I lack the discipline
she plies me with forms.

I transit to the nurses upstairs
One blood test
One ECG
Easy
They’ll do the usual test for electrolytes
and cholesterol spikes
And correct blood counts
as usual it will be alright

PATHOLOGY

Uncertain about the procedure
I clamber the stairs to a vacant lobby
no one’s behind the service desk
just me here
no queues
but a better selection of magazines
if I should choose to indulge
I sit down in the chair closest to the desk
to receive the maximum attention
and flip through the documents I need to hand in
there’s a number of hospitals and clinics
where I can have other things performed
I’ll need to go to a different one
for the heart rate monitor

I wonder if there’s a bell
it seems very vacant
and indeed I find one
a push button
with tiny red light on
I push and hear nothing
and take a number to secure my place
in the system
Still no-one
and then a young nurse appears
but I am ignored
other people start to drift in
with that same uncertain look on their features
they haven’t seen the sign saying
‘take the numbers’
I don’t know how important it is
so I say nothing
another of the elderly Russians appears out of the lift
walking frames his way to the desk where she explains
he needs to take a number
the others don’t hear, so,
theoretically he’s after me
I never get to see the outcome
because my number is called
and I become installed in a small cubicle.

The air-conditioning here has a roar
it’s competing with 5 or six other
whirring and clicking things
devices for spinning blood
and taking it
Something that hums continuously
There’s a bench to lie on for certain procedures
The light is overly bright
like it’s heaven on steroids
ultra fluorescent

The chap doing my blood
is very vigilant
even though it’s written clearly on the print out
every fact is checked
within an ounce of its life
name
Date of birth
address
phone number
I’m glancing over and realise the post code is wrong
Not 3166
3181
he corrects
finds some bottles
adds some labels
and codes for tracking
and we’re ready to go again

A strap constricts my bicep
a tiny prick near the join
the blood runs free into the tube
it’s thicker and darker than I imagine
soon it’ll be in some machine
spinning and separating
and relaying all the information I may or may not want to hear
Dr Renata will know within two working days.

The second procedure for today is a base line ECG.
“Top off, and socks below the ankles please”
12 tiny blue dots sucker themselves
on various parts of my body
then an octopus of wires come out
and cleverly limpet themselves onto the suckers
in thirty to fourty seconds
it’s done all its readings
which apparently are transmitted electronically
immediately
but of course there’s a problem with the technology
which is no concern of mine
I dress and leave it all behind
the fidgeting valve is still playing hockey

XRAY

Just to make sure
to allay my fear
It’s time for the X-Ray
down to ‘The Avenue’ Hospital
It’s madness at radiology
there’s five or more people
all vying for attention
so I wait my turn at the back of the queue,
I shuffle through the line
paying or making appointments
I hand them my dockets
“just go to the waiting room”

Channel nine news is on the overhead TV
the finance report and something about Ferrari getting out of sport
What!
No Ferrari in formula one!
an unthinkable suggestion
People in this waiting room
kind of look sicker
than any of the others I’ve seen
and yep ,
there’s that air conditioning
quite pronounced
as if its an extraction fan for deep fryers
my name is called..

Not sure if I heard right
thought she said
“remove everything above the waste”
I’m in a tiny cubicle
with artificial light
just enough room to stretch you arms
and there’s these gowns
one discarded by a former occupant
did he get out OK?
I try one on
Are the ties at the front?
Hmmmm I wonder
I try it the other way round
this pristine bleached uniform
but how will I do it up I wonder
so ties at the front.
I emerge and ask
she says other way round,
back I go to ensuring it is now the right way round
I exit the cubicle
And no-one seems available
for a few minutes
then she sees me
and in a school teacher way
tells me to go back to the cubicle
not much to do in here I think
stare at the ceiling
listen to the
AIR CONDITIONING.

It’s whistling here,
a high consistent tone
the only other thing
to pique my interest
is a diagram and explanation
“Pregnant women should inform the radiologist”
a picture of a baby
inside a uterus
symbolic

The door opens
I step forth
into a room with a high window
I’m shepherded toward a tan square
the target area
for the bombardment of
X-Rays
She motions and manhandles my body into shape
Like she’s directing a ballet
“back straighter’
“chin sharper”
“back a bit up a bit”
she moves the tan screen
“take a deep breath”
a click and she says “don’t move”
while she checks
returning she moves me side on
again the ballet performance goes on
dancing this time
with my arms over my head
lifting up my breast
curving my back
there: “got it”
Is this a model shoot?
“Hold your breath”
a click – “please wait”

I study the room
in the ceiling
the tracks the machine moves on
forwards and backwards
plenty of flexibility
it’s arms are similar to the ones on the robot from ‘lost in space’
“warning, danger Will Robinson”
There’s an oxygen tank in the corner
I wonder what that could be for
sheets and covers as needed I guess
all this is split
by her return
“thanks’ just go and see the girls in the front office.

Reception is quieter now
just me and one other whose getting her payments sorted
I hear “one hundred and sixty four dollars”
and my wallet baulks at what I might have to pay
a long time ago I learned to ask
but I didn’t today
I wonder if the private insurance will cover any of the cost
my memory of last time was that I had no recourse
for the expense of X-Rays.
As she processes me
she says “that’ll be fourty seven dollars please”
My wallet breathes a sigh of relief
and she says
“you’ll get fourty back from Medicare,
making your cost just seven dollars”
Beauty! I cry inside.

MEDICARE

A near incident
ascending the stairs to the Medicare office
the escalator going down
with a frail old man
who is not getting off quick enough
a mother and child
are getting bunched up behind him
she’s pleading
sorry , sorry
excuse me, sorry”
but they all get off with out bowling him over
he shuffles off to find his lunch
in the gallery of eateries in the space

A ticket machine calls for a decision
“Medicare rebate”
“Family payments”
and a few other choices
I choose the rebate on the touch screen
I’m offered ticket Number A 268
I hope it’s not going to be more than 15 minutes
’cause that meters running outside
a real voice recorded somewhere
is spliced together in broken words
ti-cket num-ber F-5-6-9 to Coun-ter two
it’s flashing up there in muted yellow F569
the counter number in red
I look down at mine
I’m in the ‘Ays’

A woman in front of me leaps up
and approaches a young man
behind the counter, his hair done up in a pony tail
I imagine at night he’s a rock star
and this is just his day job
The air-conditioning here is a rumble
low and subtle
some of the best I’ve heard in this journey
others have been so obtrusive
that I don’t know how you could work in it
day after day
noise pollution

A 2-6-5. 2-6-6, F 5-7-0
the numbers seem to roll from the computer generation
the lack of personality evident
is that deliberate I wonder
at 2-6-8 I vacate the seat
armed with my two receipts
and that safe green Medicare card
A matron taps efficient keyboard entries
a dab at the enter key
and I sign my life away
that’ll be 76 dollars 50 coming your way then.
Thanks

Two hours of my life
consumed in the medical machine
going from one thing to another
paying out
reimbursing
listening to all sorts of air conditioning
how exiting it is
these medical procedures
what adventures I’ve had today
I only hope that the results
make me feel just as easy.

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May 9
Breakfast
morning rains
the facades of buildings
reflect in sandy concrete
that borders the tram tracks
nothing clear
just squiggles of colour you can identify
as the residue of light
from the subway across the road
or leisure electrical discounts
or the shop without a name
just a ‘sale’ sign
I watch the owner gadding about in there
what sort of a life is that?
retail?
selling stuff day in day out
getting your products set up right
arranging ,dusting, fishing and fussing
appearance IS everything
it’s hard to actually tell what they’re selling
it seems to be ladies apparel
with a south American theme
behind me in the shop
a customer rolls in
saying he’s going “down to Geelong”
to watch the footy
and “please a few of your finest pies”
“no it doesn’t start ’til two,
but it’s a bit of a way to go”
Oh and a few of your finest bread rolls
He’s a jolly fellow
they seem to know him
there’s a lot of bantering
I can’t see him as this goes on
but as he leaves I note he has thick set tree trunk legs
and a neck that’s missing
but he seems happy with everything
good on him
The radio keeps playing in the background
‘classic hits ‘ I think it is
maybe it’s playing it’s a long way there
‘it’s along way to where I’m going’
it merges with the sounds of bacon frying
cupboard doors opening and closing
and the deep fried hiss of car tyres on the wet street
The hot tsunami of tea washes over my tongue
removing the taste of the smoky bacon
replacing it with something more bland
a strong contrast in flavour
I look out to see a man carrying his shaggy dog
‘that looks like it’s had enough of the rain

Removalists
removals truck
with an orange witches hat
is parked in the street
two men are going up stairs
they carry a kitchen table
part of somebodies life
hope that they’re respectful
a whole life is being moved here
to make it happen somebody had to move out
somenaody ahd to make a decision
moving house can be a hard thing

Out of season
Went to the supermarket to buy strawberries
but they’re out of season
went to a night club looking for a reason
but didn’t find any
there was no reason there
was I out of season?
If you want it it’s got to be imported

Autumn walk
Autumn colours on Perth
sun shining on my face
feels like I’m in toaster
or in front of a heater
on a winters afternoon
autumn leaves on ground
-like tiny balloons
blown up by god
contrasting against the black asphalt
on trees they look like teardrops
leaves are the teardops of trees
why would they be sad?

Obsrevations
Tropical palms behind a facade of stone wall

Milk bar window a small rectangles of colour
pies/pasties/saussage rolls/hot dogs/tea /coffee/ milk shakes/ice creams/ sub-news/ groceries.
Each in there own rectangle in different colours from orangey yellow to aquamarine blue.

Woman in a SUV – opening a back door saying don’t cry in an angry way while she adjusts the buckle on a one year old.

Make up Job
woman at the lights across from me in her car
putting on make up , she had the brushes
the rollers and the blush
making sure she captures every crease and every lash
and every crack
I guess people are just so busy
that’s the best she can do
the way it’s got to be
who knows, maybe she had kids to drop off
or was late for an appointment
what does it say about our ‘busy’ lives – should they be?

Rain
Raining- misty – not solid somewhere between fog and mist
skin gets cold and prickly – head is being massage with flecks of rain

Level Crossing
A man is fixing the level crossing boom gates
the cover removed
showing the insides
wheels and levers in need of oil
he’s fixing something electrical
working away with a purposeful driver
working that screw
drilling it tighter
is he satisfied yet?
Maybe.
Nearly.
He goes to put the cover back on
but then has another assay
of the situation
undoes the screw
checks it twice
and then tightens it back
to the place where it was
slipping the threads
as he does
a train approaches,
the gates slice down
but this don’t affect him
there’s cogs and wheels
spinning and whirring
and he continues to attend to that screw
again finishing
and with a rag wiping
any sign of execess oil
or grease that he might have deposited
job done he picks up the casing
and sttes home the clips.
just as the train thunders past.

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April 23

Lunch

A cafe
a child of maybe 3 or 4
she’s there with grandma
she’s tyring to work out how to add ten million and ten million
grandma’s got it sussed
first she asks
“what’s 4 plus 4″
“Eight’ says the child
“and what’s fourty plus fourty”
“Eighty”
says the intelligent child
“and what a thousand plus a thousand”
“Two thousand”
She was doing well so far
“and a milliion plus a million”
“two million”
“so ten million plus ten million is….”
” urrrrrr…” she seemed stumped on this one
” twenty…………million”
“Right very good”

What’s grandma’s story?
why is she here
what has her life been?

The man to my left
eating a couple of bits of toast for lunch
ignores all this
he just pours another waterfall of tea
and butters his slice and gets on with life

I saw through my steak
I asked for medium well
I think the cow might have a tale to tell
of standing too long in a grassless field
the meat’s pretty tough and refusing to yield
to the rasp of the knife but I keep diving down
rasping away as If I’m cutting down
a two hundred year old oak.
Chewing I find is easier than expected
no mechanical digger needed
as imagined
the salad is crisp
with a dribble of dressing
balsamic and olive oil I’m guessing
Those shoelace fries seem to multiply
every time I move my knife
or look away
but they’re good company
for the rest for the meal
at the end I feel a little full
and it’s time for a walk on the beach

A walk on the beach
On the parrapet
there’s large woman
she’s carrying a lot of meat
her oversized breasts
nodding to gravity
I wonder about the inevitability of aging
is that where I’m going?
Is that the end result of our slowing metabolism?
So, should I be getting going
right now
exercising daily
developing a regime
bar bells
rowing
Ab – King Pro-ing?

A large truck tries to negotiate
along a very narrow street
it’s a cork in a bottle
juice in a funnel
that won’t flow
He’s riding the side of the curb
trying not to disturb
power lines and other vehicles
but to me it looks impossible

So here I am
taking my leave
on a deserted beach
and I find I’m thinking about domestic things..
cleaning the carpets
paying for light fittings
seemingly innocuous things
but they have to happen
and they require planning
it’s all about organisation

Have I so soon
become immune
to the beauty of the water
seeing it over and over
for the past few days
Am I now bored with the greens and the greys
the triangle dance of the waves
Seagulls darting and dancing
just over the tops of waves
suddenly changing direction
flapping their wings
riding the course of the breeze
riding on thermals
large ones small ones
a lone wolf
shooting by like a Mig jet
much higher then the others
it’s found the secret breezes
the others are just followers
and don’t do their own thinking
of course.. I admire the lone wolf

Internet shop

At the computer shop
I access the internet
the only place it seems on the whole island
$2.50 per 1/4 hour
I’m thinking it won’t be busy
But I’m most surprised to find an unending stream
that there’s 15 PC/s in the queue
to be fixed
that there’s all different sorts of internet plans
using ADSL 2 and even dial up
A blue cat 5 cable
makes me able to post all these thoughts
across the ocean of ones and noughts
we know as the internet
and all these things get stored
somewhere
with a bunch of other numbers
‘The cloud’ is that lastest I hear
where you don’t really need a computer
it’s all stored away in the ether
you just connect in your brain
at this point still through a machine
but one day
one day
my favorite part is playing at the end
somehow someone
has managed to convivnce
Avril Levine
to masquerade as counter girl
and I look into her eyes and fall into a world
of dreamy deire
for a time I was younger
and how she might have been able
to meet my hunger
but now I look at her and think
“she could be my daughter”
funny how things chaneg like that
as you get older…

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