Morning coffee
By the keyboard
The grass lettuce crisp
crunching beneath my feet
Upstairs the sky is sugared
Blue layered pink
The Magpie gurgles in the bushes around the side of the house
The day has not begun
Already the static noise of my thoughts have
A new day on the run
I add to the pile of clothes
In repose by the machine
The northerly breeze
Delivers to me
The sounds of a highway humming
The floor beneath my feet
Could do with a dust
I pull on my boots
Thinking
The bottom of the pool
Is the colour of rust
Should be vacuuming
Everywhere
Pocket the gloves that I never use
But always carry with me
I don’t know why
Like a spare prayer
I don’t apply
Because I can’t stand the feeling of muffled hands
Gripping gears
Throttle
The loss of control
Blind fingertips
I tuck them into the tank bag
They’ll be safe there
My spare prayer
Oh the irony!
Roll the bike out
Check the oil
Kick the tyres
Run my fingers across the chain
Pull the helmet down
To protect the brain
Although it traps the thoughts
In there
Where they flutter
Butterflies hitting the glass of my visor
Start the motor
Turn
Out onto the road
Those things to do
Calling after me
Become a distant echo
As I pass the first dead roo carcass
Littering the highway
Reminding me
I’m nothing out here
An after thought
On a bike
Nobody important
The sky a dome
My soul could rise into any second
The breath of the wind
Hitting me in the chest
Curling around my fragile neck
It’s good to be nothing
For awhile
The smile of a child
On my face
As the throttle kicks up the pace
And I disappear
Just one of the human race
And not a very important one either
I carry no more weight
Then the birds
The Roos
Or a stray emu that I didn’t see
Come running out of the scrub
Sending me
Where we all go
That great mystery
Which we all turn our eyes aside from
Try to hide
The idea
That none of us are as solid as we think
Our blood runs less permanent ink
Than that sign board advertising
Bullshit to buy and some number to call
With an interchangeable operator waiting by the phone
It’s lettering will fade
Even steel degrades
Shadows flickering
We stand in the light but briefly
It sure feels longer
With all the habits of the living
Yet to the highway
That steals a thousand lives
Every day
All with things to do
Spare prayers to pray
Nothing stops this relentless life
Until it does
Freezes the watch face with broken glass
Time is up
It just ran out
All those important words left unspoken
At least I write
There’s always that
But how many times can you say I love you
Will they remember the words
That I wrote
The small acts
Of bespoke art
That I think matter
Poetry breathing through me
Producing a sigh
We all pass by thinking we’re important
Yeah there’s always that
Oh the irony
