Caution: This post contains a description of a suicide
how to poke the spider from its hole
how to dodge my pushbike thru the traffic
or hang off a lorry for a tow up the hill
to where the freeway looks like a river
and the river is a smokestack
how tupperware is a verb how opera sells rice bubbles, tchaikovsky sells winfields and lawnmowers ring like a choir on a sunday morning how to scratch my girlfriend’s initials into my wrist with a rusty penknife coz that’s what you do with a ❤️ this big (Margot from Umina, are you listening?) how to rip my knee apart on the gravel how to get punched in the mouth how to comb my hair with a skeleton hand made of chicken bones and fencing wire how a time machine, a triceratops, a tyrannosaur how antimatter, how a bee, pi to 14 places anything planetary, anything holy how quiet my room the cupboards the corners how to hold my breath past the cemetery and never look back coz the dead envy the living our soft hair and the remains of the guy who threw himself under the afternoon express bits of bone and matter dried on the rails
Image: Streetscape, Port Kembla. Tupperware was/is a line of plastic food containers; for non-Australian readers, rice bubbles are a breakfast cereal made by Kelloggs inc. The ad promoting them was similar to this one from the US (cringe warning). Winfields were a cigarette marketed by Paul Hogan before he was discovered by Hollywood.
A bit of a descent in this piece but all true I promise. This arose from a (paradoxical) writing exercise at a group I attend to ‘write the things you’ve forgotten from your childhood.’
And for music, something uplifting, here’s Kate Bush from 1985 with Hounds of Love – I still love this album.
5 thoughts on “A boy’s own forgotten things… ”
An amazing poem.
Loved this one!
Everyone who didn’t waste their childhood has gravel in their knees. Snap, crackle, pop.
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the whole ‘how to’ litany is a child’s box of found things and mementos, with the one treacly sour sweet picked up from the pavement that makes us sick at the end. Loved all these memories and the child’s notion about how “the dead envy the living
our soft hair ”
p.s. I still have gravel in my knee after the skin grew over it!
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All our knees I think…glad you enjoyed this.