awake in silence
the caravan is perfectly still
i run ahead of preposterous frightening dreams
i leap out of them back into this makeshift reality
which is realistic and contains 72% actual realness
the dreams are epic torturous meaningless
they seemed meaningful but now
in the delicate day
in the quietness of a haven
a home away from home….
you walked down to the general store
surrounded by cactii and vivid pinkred flowers
bees toil and hover with a drowsy hum
the store has ice creams bait newspapers
loads of different hooks
a blackboard reads
freshly cut sandwiches
toasted sandwiches available
pies, pasties, scones
milkshakes, thick shakes, tea, coffee
bait boat hire etc
you rang the little bell on the counter
you read through a newspaper guiltily
you perused a slightly rude magazine
you looked at the dead flies on the windows ill
eventually after eons of waiting
left alone with your heartbeat
and the echo of the little ringing bell
which still tinkled in the corners
and wriggled in the spiders webs
a woman of about thirty you supposed appeared
hello she says
oh shes very unexpected
she looks like a combination
of your mother and your sisters
and your best friend kim
and that woman in that film you watched
when you had a fever
you could never remember anything
other than she was so beautiful
yes yes
theres beauty
theres pretty girls everywhere
especially up here
handsome boys too for that matter
blond bronzed muscled surfers like adonis
but their beauty holds no meaning for me
they simply occur like the perfect trees you see
pale flesh like bark
well proportioned limbs
head full of bursting leaves
nests full of stars
or starlings
their prettiness is their ordinariness
in a forest of perfect trees
where my caravan was
still and perfectly warm
in the shade of an oak
yes can i help you said the woman
you felt in your pockets for money
you pull out your bankbook but no money
oh i left my money in the van you said
thats all right she smiled
i’ll be here…..
the day started to uncurl itself
you seemed to be living in your own future
you seemed to be swimming through the warm present
there was no past
yes something had gone past
but what it was
well now you couldnt say
back there lay childhoods haze
a gauze over everything
like a mosquito net
or a film of sea spray
but the day your father died
the illusion rapidly faded
of course that would be a future passed over
over and over again probabilities suggested
suddenly everything seemed like
it was meant to mean something
away from the nagging parents
the squabbling children
those half hearted friends
those guys you used to jam with
could any of them have anticipated such freedom
who among us could have granted you such release
those days came and went so fast
when it was time to relish them
they were already gone
yes gone gone gone
so irretrievably gone
thats why the caravan felt so nice
you were already doctoring it for the memory
slightly overblowing the colours of the parrots outside
slightly over estimating the cosy properties in
trimming round the edges and a little blurring
later that day
you walked through a grove of sacred pines
past the lagoons and lakes
coming at last to the golden-green sea
where families lay and umbrellas sprouted
men were fishing
people were swimming
old folks n babies just paddling
the sun was yellow
the sky was royal blue
and for most people
it was enough