it’s all nonsense, he sighed
what?
oh, well, really, this is just another way of looking at it
looking at what?
nothing
well, you just said…
none of us did.
so this is a story of a journey,
he started off…
well, no, actually, let’s just start at the beginning.
he was at the top of the stairs
when the idea first struck him
well, not that he considered it an idea at the time, but it came to him
nevertheless.
with each step it became clearer
each step down
as he took another step
another step down
the image became clearer
it was an open field
with a group of people sitting
openly talking
quite relaxed
well at least on the surface
below that
just beneath the veneer
lurked a few tensions
it was these tensions that most interested him
always had done
and this is how he differed from his father
his father had been happy to skate the surface
and indulge in the contentment offered by its fragile skin
but for him it was always different
often he had wondered why
and usually this wondering
became just that
and wandered
arriving nowhere
it would raise more questions
than it answered along the roaming road.
so where was he?
well he’d just about quite forgotten
so lost in thought
that it hit him with a jolt
when the sound of a big boo hit him in the ear
almost jumping as he spun around
doing a little pirouette
to face whatever creature
had pierced his peace
and who other than the little fool
the foolish rabbit with a habit for
munching carrots
who had been the culprit
fuck you, he shouted at the rabbit
as the rabbit cocked his head,
mildly widened his eyes
before blinking rapidly and teary eyed
into his bewildered gaze
oh just bugger off will you?
as he said this he found himself
picking up the rabbit’s carrot
and taking a bite
then, smaller and smaller bites
as he found himself nibbling
little bits
and just then he caught himself
tripping and the cold suspended
feeling of what could have been a dream
shivered up his spine like a lightning bolt
in a milkshake shop
bang and a whallop as he hit the deck
was this the last step or the second
last that he had tripped over?
- 28.07.2008, from the collection, Some poems about life and stuff by stuart barnes