Cancelled milk, threw out stale bread/Sunday paper,
Called Mother: nervous ‘No’ to supper and hung-up,
(She died of grief not long thereafter),
I fed the fish and packed my things:
Toothbrush, soap, towel, and a good book
(I fished the bread from the bin too),
Left a note on my door for the burglar.
Reads:
If you break in then please take the cat,
It might be in a box somewhere. I can’t find it.
Cheers Rich
I got on number 21 To Lands End,
It took a while: screaming baby, phone
Conversations and an old gerontologist
Babbling about a “unifying dream underlying it all.”
Finally I got off the bus; stretched my knees,
Hired a boat; sailed perilous seas, and arrived
At the horizon, face peeling, salt breeze blow,
Beard long, trousers damp, stomach vacuous,
Only a few crumbs left of the bread
(It became so stale I could barely swallow).
I had to fan my blistered face with the oar,
The wet wilderness nearly consumed me,
I thought I heard the bells of Lyonesse
Rising from the seafloor,
Ringing on the waves.
Then the rough sea subsided and there was land.
Dumped the boat—walked the stony beach
Smoked banana skins, (Packed matches too)
Dreamed of building something from palms.
Then I saw a woman standing alone, naked,
At first I thought she was standing on water,
I approached and saw to my dismay:
She was standing on rocks
under the surface.
She was voluptuous in her curves
And spoke with a foreign tongue,
(Like a clarinet some would say).
We sat on the rocks,
Cold feet in the sea,
Her head on my lap,
She sang the fellatio to me,
From the jungle came her brother,
He threw an apple at my head and
Then led me to the settlement.
The place was simple and bright.
Mud, tepee’s, pigs and a freshwater stream,
It dawned on me: I was witnessing the truth of a dream.
A swarm of greedy eyes thirstily absorbed me.
The natives lived so far away
They innocently clutched my blade,
Then squealed in pain– and ran.
Bitten hands garnished me with Lotus’
And I sat by the young tribeswoman
Who had been spanked pink by the sun,
Night fell, a stage curtain.
The diluted light from the water sun made everything turn blue.
She handed me a thin curved leaf that looked like basil
It was like eating a butterfly, so exquisite and delicate.
A huge fire burned and flames flickered to the beat of the drum.
When I woke I was in a dark tepee with her,
My bottom sore from the stony floor,
She smiled and handed me a soiled cloth
I took it, reluctantly, and wiped my face,
We went outside, it was daylight now.
The whole tribe congregated outside the tent,
They hollered and stamped their spears,
Feet blackened by the ash beneath them.
I emptied my bag and threw them the contents:
Toothbrush, soap, towel, matches, breadcrumbs,
A button, a wooden cup, some rosewood beads
And the good book.
They fought over the items for a while,
I thought they would start spilling brotherly blood,
But quite quickly they realised that
The items were useless curiosities,
Symbols of a different reality—
And no more useful than a
Drug-induced hallucination.
They turned back to me and lifted their spear-tips.
A child scooped a handful of stones from the ash
And sprayed me with them. I was covered in dust,
A relic: dry, black tongue, grit grinding like cud.
I took out my butterknife—
Made threatening motions to child and savages,
And then began to laugh at the absurdity of it all,
The tribespeople began to laugh too, spears down,
They walked away, turning their backs on the unknown.
I stooped back into the tepee and carried out the missionary
(Pleasuring the tribeswoman a second time).
My quest completed I returned home, spent.
Front door broken, message taped to knocker.
Reads:
I got the box thanks. Don’t want to open it,
Just in case the cat’s dead. Burglar.