Bora born
Joe who _
Oh what a place
down town at the gallery
the sun warms the breeze
this late afternoon.
Dappled light shadows
move light, across the notepad
chasing each other
as the pen moves on.
The smell of trinity
fresh salt air about them
the inlet is near
just off to his right.
The frangipanni breeze
in cairns in the tropics
moves through his space
as the pen moves on.
This restaurant of choice
is next to the gallery
open to birds, and this afternoon sun.
‘How r u doin?' she asks
as she passes
cleaning the bench top with
a professional wipe.
God, then that crash
to invade their senses
the intersection, just off to the left.
Oh shoot ! they can't believe
what they are all seeing
a body airborne
flying through the air.
Ever seen the movie with
brad pitt and sir anthony
I think is titled
‘Meet Joe Black.'
Remember the scene when
brad's killed at the crossing
and his body cartwheels
like a rag doll through the air.
Well believe it or not
he had paid us a visit
as the motorbike hit
the dead centre of the car.
Twenty feet high
spinning like a cartwheel
to land on his head with
a plop and a thud.
The bike was a write off
the car not much better
they came from all over
to tend his need.
‘Just don't touch him'
a yell from the gallery
the mobiles went crazy
as the pen moves on.
All this while, he just kept on writing
to the sound of the chatter
at the back of his head.
Desensitised by the visual pollution
and the wars upon wars
as they clean up the dead.
Thirty five minutes
from start to finish
the road is clear
as if nothing occurred.
There goes old joe
on his golf cart scooter
he missed all the action
with five minutes to spare.
Now he hears
the post mortems about him
he didn't move from the top of his seat.
The breeze has increased
now a bit chilly
the camry driver with
blue lights in his head.
- O -
© Oct 2004 _ Nhawrr yirrpa
down town at the gallery
the sun warms the breeze
this late afternoon.
Dappled light shadows
move light, across the notepad
chasing each other
as the pen moves on.
The smell of trinity
fresh salt air about them
the inlet is near
just off to his right.
The frangipanni breeze
in cairns in the tropics
moves through his space
as the pen moves on.
This restaurant of choice
is next to the gallery
open to birds, and this afternoon sun.
‘How r u doin?' she asks
as she passes
cleaning the bench top with
a professional wipe.
God, then that crash
to invade their senses
the intersection, just off to the left.
Oh shoot ! they can't believe
what they are all seeing
a body airborne
flying through the air.
Ever seen the movie with
brad pitt and sir anthony
I think is titled
‘Meet Joe Black.'
Remember the scene when
brad's killed at the crossing
and his body cartwheels
like a rag doll through the air.
Well believe it or not
he had paid us a visit
as the motorbike hit
the dead centre of the car.
Twenty feet high
spinning like a cartwheel
to land on his head with
a plop and a thud.
The bike was a write off
the car not much better
they came from all over
to tend his need.
‘Just don't touch him'
a yell from the gallery
the mobiles went crazy
as the pen moves on.
All this while, he just kept on writing
to the sound of the chatter
at the back of his head.
Desensitised by the visual pollution
and the wars upon wars
as they clean up the dead.
Thirty five minutes
from start to finish
the road is clear
as if nothing occurred.
There goes old joe
on his golf cart scooter
he missed all the action
with five minutes to spare.
Now he hears
the post mortems about him
he didn't move from the top of his seat.
The breeze has increased
now a bit chilly
the camry driver with
blue lights in his head.
- O -
© Oct 2004 _ Nhawrr yirrpa
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Joe who _
Joe who _
