Dairy Dreams

As soon as I began reading it, ‘The Ice Cream Palace,’ I began to have dairy dreams.

Don’t you know it is forbidden, I said. I banished you from my diet years ago.

But the dream  pulled up to me like a Mr. Whippy van chiming.

What could I do?

I settled back into my vanilla-and–pistachio armchair and read Gianni Rodari’s deliciously delightful tale.

My eyes greedily licked every sentence.

I scooped the words up with pleasure.

They melted in my mouth.

The residue ran down my chin in rainbow rivulets.

A Cozy Crucifixion

Harvesting the cane would do it, so would elite tennis,

pounding the pool for Australia,

all fodder for the physio:

you lie prostrate on the plinth,

narrow as an ironing board

head down in the gap,

arms at yr sides, feet fastened at the base —

a cozy crucifixion,

planking for Jesus,

while muscles are massaged, kneaded.

coaxed into submission,

the little pummeling fists of current bringing you

to the shores of bliss

The Happy Caddie

It’s okay being a caddie

tagging along with the team

light as a butterfly

nothing to prove

floating along the lazy rhythms

of the afternoon,

the dappled sunlight,

the bodyguard gums,

the cheeky creek bed waiting

to gobble up golf balls;

you’re nimble on yr feet,

jovial as a parrot

keeping the banter going

handing out irons

as a waiter would drinks,

planting the flag after putting is done

like Neil and Buzz on the moon





*pic courtesy of Wikipedia

Blue Pastures of the Sky

I worry about you like you worried about Chloe

the day I never brought her home from the vet;

Would she be happy in Heaven?

Would someone throw the ball for her?

Take her for long walks across the blue pastures

Of the sky?

But I can’t rescue you from adulthood.

All I can do is cheer you from the sidelines

like I used to do in Nationals

Wish you fangs and claws to fight off the trolls,

The sting of the scorpion

A heart as fierce as Balerion, the dragon

From Game of Thrones,

But peaceful and playful as Puff, that magic dragon

From Honalee.





  • pic by ilse orsel from Unsplash.com

Simon’s Space Odyssey

Simon rambles in. He rattles Alec’s equanimity.

I’m getting my haircut. I see it all in the mirror.

Simon’s his usual self: brash, bold, bloody stupid, He lisps some errant remark.

Alec drops what he’s doing, reaches for the fly swatter and chases Simon down the street.

It’s like a well rehearsed routine.





A month later I go back.. Simon doesn’t look so good. His eyes are puffy, his face a little swollen, his hare lip is bleeding.

What happened? George says, one of the assistants. Your girl friend beat you up again?

Simon blubbers out an obscenity. Alec reaches for the fly swatter and the chase is on again.





Simon is a sad sack, the world’s punching bag but he does have one trick up his sleeve. His dad is Lord Mayor of Mars. No one else can claim that.

How he got there long before Elon Musk is not explained but Simon basks in his glory. On Mars International Day — yes, there is one —Simon comes in, wearing his red skivvy and breaks into the Mars National anthem till he is chased out by Alec’s furious flyswatter.





One day Simon slumps in. Dad is not well.  Dad needs Simon to take over. How will he get there? Everyone knows by now that Simon has a rocket ship tucked in a corner of his bedroom at the ready. But Simon as Lord Mayor? Would those Martians treat him seriously?

Simon doesn’t appear the next month nor the one after that.

In fact, he doesn’t appear again.

Can one disappear into one’s own fantasy?





*pic courtesy of Wikipedia

So Where Are You?

So where are you?

In a galaxy far far away.

No. Where are you really?

Tralfamadore.

Isn’t that where …?

Yes, where Billy Pilgrim went.

That time traveller from ‘Slaughterhouse Five’?

Yes, he went there on his days off.

His days off? From where?

Reality. Reality bites, you know.

But what if you never came back?

Like Hugh Conway in ‘Lost Horizons’?  Dorothy in Oz ?

Yes.

And Peter Pan in Neverland.?

Exactly.

Would it really matter? You’d be where you want to be. Would you even want to go back?

Have you a favourite fantasy place ? Which fantasy world would you live in if you could? What if you couldn’t come back?

Losing One’s Lid

My rubbish bin has lost its lid

& asks me what to do..

“How would you feel if your Id,

was exposed to full view?





All that rancour, all that passion,

the outright lies and fibs

You wouldn’t want someone peering in

the trashcan of yr Id.





And what if the rain should tumble down?”

“All right,” I say, “all right, don’t be such a squib,

I’ll phone the local council up.

You shall soon have your lid.”





Everyone should have their lid,

pleasant though firmly secured.

The Id is not a pleasant spot

& should not be long endured.

When the Wind Changes

I walked past that place today.

Which one?

You know, the one we walked past last month with the nude couple canoodling in the front yard …

And …

Well, they’re still at it.

Must have happened when the wind changed.

Pardon?

You know that old saying: if you screw your face up when the wind changes it will stay like that, Well, it could extend to the position you were in when …

What if you were ….Or even ….?

Don’t even think about it.

Could be a blessing or a curse then? Let’s look at that photograph again. I can’t think of a better position to be in when the wind changes.

Nor can I.