2: SILVER SALVO

 

Throw yourself under a bus...  

    Throw yourself  yourself under a bus...

             HOW  ~  Could I remain rocksteady?

  With autumn landing, beautiful: golden: vibrant: cascading:

                                                          ... nature is blowing a gorgeous splash of mixed red, yellow colours and vibes around the town. Across distant fields rusty flashes, moving mountains and hiccuping hills. Sprinkles of gold. Rare rare abundant elements atop pretty pricey cottages.           

                 And on and on, for miles and miles from county to county the new season is whistling down and around winding windy twisting whistling lanes.

                    Winter hats for the kids fished out, families flinch as bigger jackets are priced up.

  Leaf by leaf, with leaves from branches and eaves gilding gutters and gutterings I look peacefully, fearlessly but not intrusively at the show of existenz and reality. Crisp, fragile red-yellow, the fall feathers across the pavement, crawling spider-like then judoed with gusto up in the air. A sudden speedy captivating swirl. Blue flashes. At first I thought it was sirens or worse still flashing intros to a vision but no the flashes were blue, white then gone:  bright streaking spirits and spectres.

  Talking of golden.. THE GOLDEN ARROW...

  Me many many many moons ago... just after busting out of school: a tad before the fine fine rum and dazzling white sands of Barbados. St Lawrence Gap. Rum, rum, rum, fiery Havanas, fantastic happy buzzing steel bands and then some more... rum. Tucking into a shark steak. Finest meal I have ever had. I loved my girl. Really loved her. We were very happy. Space, trust and fun!

                                          "I'm paying you too much" - McCabe quipped with his big chest, packed wallet and mustard motors. Top bloke. I never saw his temper. He had a reputation, businesses to protect, a lifestyle and family to maintain. Three or four directors. Trev, the voice. The face. Match-day buddies. A box. I liked him. Different colours and team to me , rivals, fierce but I admired him. I grasped the aspirational thing young. A lot of skint or fucked-up kids do and I wasn't gonna spend my life...

                                    My plans and dreams were big. I was a grafter, long long tiresome but fun hours, cheap digs... and there I was lost and found: carefree, ridiculously naive too in a buzzing beachside bar with a beautiful girl somewhere sunning herself looking out at the jet-skis smiling and thinking: "What's he up to? Is he still on one of them? He's probably with that guy from Chicago."

  She didn't care. Looking out at the ocean she wasn't overly mithered.

She knew

I was shy and intoxicated.

In love.

Wild but tamed.

  Ay up, who's that?

            It’s me – a big burly builder running in to the

Golden Arrow

in a

turquoise leotard...

 

Does it suit me?

 

Cool, glad you like it .. anyway niceties aside

It's time to embarrass someone other than myself...

 

Hey, how's tricks? Good to bump in to you again.

What was it you said to my girlfriend the other day?

Is it okay if I pick you up

And throw you on the pool table. 

It'll only take a minute and these guys can resume play.

                 And..

      Oh Christ, don't remind me  ..

                  ..  there I am again with a life-long death-wish running in front of traffic on a busy city-centre island. The cops picked me up. Cars arriving from all angles. Not worried about me, but actually.. yeah, worried about me because by now they know me and they're worried for me but amiable enough and unlike the slander often spoken. My experience. I can only pass comment on my own experience.

Their experience.

Maybe people should only pass comment on their own experience. 

                         ..  You wait a while in a stark dank cell, the less noise and fuss created: the quicker they arrive, they are humans remember with their own issues, beliefs and ideas. And within a body of rules and ideas there are always singular ideas. Within any pub, school, firm, company, church, university, library, concert hall there are always singular voices and ideas.

The cup proffered is dirty: water warm: tepid.. undrinkable.

                                                  What the hell were you drinking last night?

                                                                       They ask.

        And they are humans and maybe they'd like to give that particular bender, my last session or crazy gigantic cocktail a spin... but then they look at me... 

The party doesn't look much fun,

Disco balls busted

Neon lights frazzled and fucked up:

Me with a tear in my eye ..

Volcanic swings ..

And the life lottery

of

Trauma

Tenacity

Tsunamis

Catastrophes

FUN

OPTIMISM

CHANGE

SWINGS

MOODS

 

DANCING

LAUGHTER

WORDS

SONG

ART

LOVE

PEACE

WAVES

CALM

&

PINBALL NEURONS