this boy is still thinking...

IIs that the gate?

The white wedding ring band on her finger is finally beginning to fade

almost all the evidence has gone

photos are burnt, love letters torn

almost nothing is left

she fed his birthday cake to the goat this morning

she was stupid to expect him to remember her

every year she prepares a christmas dinner for him

sets the table with his favourite tablecloth and favourite wine glasses

but he never comes

this year she had a feeling that he would come for his birthday

he used to love birthdays

valued them more than any other celebration

"this is your special day"

he would say as he handed her his poorly wrapped gift

on the 23rd of November.

It's been two years and fourteen days since she last saw him

what's the point?

she wonders

he said that he would love me forever

where is he now?

is he loving me whilst in the arms of another?

or

whilst desperately working to afford a ticket to see me?

she doesn't know...

and as from now

no longer cares.

Sport crime

"Not everyone likes sport, you know!"

i shout

as i slam the remote control down for the fifth time today

i'm tired and i feel like watching tv

something

not too challenging yet not too boring

tennis, cricket, football and basketball

occupy all the channels.

They say that watching tv is brainless

but my brain is ticking overtime trying to find a

suitable adjective to describe

this unfair dismissal

of sport crime.

Community hall

I can still smell the over waxed floorboards

the ancient leather and the scent of rotting material

it's been almost ten years since i did my last

dib dib or was that dob dob

i can't remember

we were taught never to let the flag touch the ground

it seems weird now

i didn't know that i was being patriotic.

Thursday nights were full of these smells

and kids that i didn't know

i've never been the best at making friends

but now when i think about

cubs didn't seem all that long ago.

Favourite band

Sitting in his bedroom picking at his guitar.

"i will never sound like that", he thinks

stereo is on

his favourite band is filling the room

eating away at his eardrums

it doesn't matter

if i go deaf

i won't have to hear mum nagging me anymore

he's stuck on that note

the one before the chorus

this band is so fantastic

so much better than he will ever be

his fingers crawl up and down the fretboard

until finally, he hits it

the right note!

the note separating him from greatness

his string breaks

great! he thinks

by the time i can afford a new one, i'll have forgotten how to play it

well...it doesn't matter

at least he's still got his favourite band

he thinks

as he carefully places the cd

back into its case.

Five dollars twenty five

Strange noises,

people rushing

beep, beep

"would you like fries with that?"

i'm waiting , looking at a fluorescent lit menu

hrmm...

value meal sounds good.

the kids are running the show,

they duck, spin and weave

through cash registers, microwaves and tables.

an insincere smile greets me

"can i take your order?..."

her smile looks processed,

processed like the food i will soon eat

these kids are chasing orders for other kids.

'p' plate cars, packed with teenagers, stream through

the newly built, brick and wood

drive thru.

"drive through to the next window please"

she says

foraging through my pockets

i find a selection of silver and gold,

a handful of coins.

i transfer them into my other hand

counting them as i pass them over

"that's five twenty five thanks"

she says

luckily i have enough

i drop the coins into her hand

"sorry about the change"

I say

she smiles,

another perfect, processed smile.

"Enjoy your meal and sorry about the wait"

rolls off her tongue

as though she has said it, close to a million times

I take my order

check to make sure everything is there

shift my gear stick into drive

and set off for home

breathing in air

dominated

by the smell

of processed food.

To use a hip word

The toys that he just had to have

are now thrown carelessly under his bed.

the shoes that defined him in his younger years

have not been touched since he bought his new ones,

they are much better

in touch with the times in every way

right down to rubber soles.

video games and comics

would occupy the majority of his thoughts

i'm stuck on this level

how do i get past him?

these problems are long gone

now he wants to get past first base

and win in other ways.

his silk face has been replaced

by hard and sharp stubble

the hardest level on any video game

does not compare to the problems he has now

"will i ever be loved? will i score?"

i hate being me

he thinks as he wipes coffee up from the floor with an old phantom comic

flicking through the latest edition of playboy.

Less than meets your eye

Wine spilt on the floor reminds me of last night.

The scattered videos

the midday light.

---

It filters through the blinds

onto my face.

It's two thirty four,

another day starts

with me cleaning up mess from the floor.

---

Answering machine sits still on zero,

email checking is futile.

Something is wrong with my connection,

my server is down.

Curse the absent computer freaks,

"You can't do anything right!".

---

Talking to myself in gibberish,

laughing when it seems fit.

An organised studio laugh in my room,

focuses on me

as i lie on my bed

convincing myself that i am suffering.

My life, an open wound.

The fairies

Barbeque chips always remind me of my grandma.

She is gone now,

but so many things remind me of her.

Jersey caramels and chocolate eclairs,

take me back to the excitment of opening that cupboard door in the kitchen.

She told me that the fairies had come,

and left me some treats...

Lollies would always be in there, waiting.

Today i still eat lollies,

but i have realised that there are no such thing as fairies

only sweet, kind and caring grandparents.

Sometimes when you hold me

you remind me of her.

A real sense of love.

I'm not sure what it is.

Maybe a feeling that you would do anything for me?

a reckless love, that disregards all other things.

An energetic bond?,

something beyond reason.

I can't comprehend,

how it works

but it does...

Three course murder

The word 'murder' sometimes makes me excited

I could never kill anybody,

but for some reason

the word is so attractive.

When I see it on paper,

written in black text,

contrasting against the white page,

I feel like picking it up and putting it in my mouth.

I don't want to think about what it really means,

because excitement is always dampened by meaning.

So i will continue to fall in love with this word

ignoring it's connotations

and brutality.

Been in there for too long

If I could borrow your confidence, I would.

I'd be hassling you all the time

"c'mon, just once more"

I would be like a junkie,

desperate for a hit.

---

Fluctuating confidence,

you are like a bad shower

you get me comfortable with your warmth,

then

you go cold.

---

Insidious creature,

driving my body without a license.

You cannot drive!

Your gear changes are rough,

and you forget to indicate.

You trigger darting eyes,

when you only needed

to wait.

More money than sense

Skidding car outside my house.

I imagine what the guy looks like behind the wheel.

He's probably smirking triumphantly as his wheels spin,

hoping that his annoying neighbours can hear.

It lasts for ages.

I can smell rubber.

Reminds me of the speedway.

I've only been there a few times, but that smell

is stored in the place where smells are stored.

When the skid finishes,

I imagine the road.

Marked by his stupidity.

He will probably nod his head and laugh tomorrow,

as he drives past the skidmarks on his way to work.

He probably has a good job.

If he can afford to spin his wheels like that.

I sit in my room for a while

thinking about this guy

only to finally realise

that maybe it was a girl.

Could I drive you home in my car,

or would that be going too far?