Once Upon a Time

We are watching a UFC telecast at the pub.

That’s what we do to each other, I say.

We kick, box, wrestle each other.

Only we do it in words.

Words are much nicer, she says.

I don’t know about that, I say.

Do we really fight like that?

Yes.

We should be on TV.

There’s a show like that on TV now about bickering couples.

There is?

Yes. MAFS. Married At First Sight.

God, she says, we’re not like that, are we?

No, I say, we’re like UFC fighters.

We’re not like that now though , are we? she asks.

No, I wink, but once upon a time …..


*pic courtesy of Wikipedia
 

Bull Ants

They do not graze in meadows.

Nor do they stare listlessly

over fences at traffic .

None , to my knowledge ,

are brindled or patchwork .

Few , if any , have horns

or tails to swish flies with .

I have never heard one moo .

Nor been charged by one

when I crossed its path .

They may see red

but are little sought after

by toreadors .

Yet they are big .

And they do pack a bite.

Inherit the Day

You inherit another day.

So what are you going to do with it?

Melancholize ?

Rhapsodize ?

What?

Sift through it for cigarette butts?

Scrambled messages on billboards?

What you gunna do?

Rehearse it like a song you’re going to record?

Look it straight in the eye?

Shoulder your way through it like an NRL star?

Squeeze the juice right out of it?

Hitch a ride on it?

Or lean against it like a lamp post and watch it amble by?

You inherit another day.

So what you gunna do?

Brussels Sprouts

Tight-fisted , they are hard

as knuckles and spoiling

for a fight

 

as they tumble like marbles

on to the floor , little green foot-

balls begging me

 

to sink the boot in ;

even under the knife

they are tough

 

as nails covering themselves

in layers like Chinese

boxes or onions ;

 

they leap around

in the saucepan like

boxers’ fists ;

 

ten minutes later

I swallow them ; anything

might happen

Libraries Used to be Safe Places

All quiet on the Western Front? I asked one of the security guards who had been involved in an incident ten minutes before.

Yes, he said but you could tell he was a little jumpy.

He and two of his mates had wrestled to the ground an ice addict who was bothering one of the patrons.

Amongst much kicking, punching and hurling of abuse, he was shoved out of the library.

I pulled out my phone to take a film. One of the guards seeing me, said: No. Put it away, mate.

So I did.

I wish it were as easy to put away some of the stuff that is out there but it isn’t. It isn’t.

Bar Room Brawl

You had to fore warn people.

It was not a good look.

Scabs and bruises on the upper lip

Sores on the nose

So you said, “bar room brawl”

Half jokingly, “but you should have seen

The other fellow.”

It was more dramatic, more grunge-romantic

Than humdrum “cold sores.”