Play with me

Ash. Smoke. Black.

Tony; middle-aged, wry, academic.

TONY: I’m not here to tell you what happened. You can see it for yourselves. The aftermath. I’m not here to clean out. To sift or sort through. I’m here to tell you what was lost. And what was found.
Let me show you;

A change. Clear light.

It’s 1988. The sun is shining. Somewhere a boy in sandals and blue socks plays cricket with his brother. Elsewhere people are getting ready to celebrate the Bicentenary. 200 years of settlement - white colonisation... I’m at my father’s house - sitting on his bleached white furniture, picking at the paint, staring at the yard. Tough grass out there. Good for rumbles, good for bull-rush. An apple tree teeters in the corner, its fruit more the neighbour’s than our own. His shed - long locked up - next to it. Never go in the shed. Not anymore. He’s about to tell me a story.

A man emerges; Older, greying, yellowed.

GEVARD: You want? (Offers him a Date) Its good. No? Hm, more for me.

TONY: My father. Lowering himself creaking into a chair. The stripped pattern fabric fading on our back verandah. Must have gotten 40 years of sun by now. Nearly as much as me. He offers me another date. No, thanks. I take a cup of coffee from him - there’s filigree gold on the rim, you don’t see glasses like that much anymore, not round here. It’s a long time till I see them again. He clears his throat.

A cough

And begins;

This time round...

I’m 24 when they take my testicle. The right one. Just a day surgery really. A small scar buried in tangled hair. The end always unhealed - the only thing to let you know. I had two once. I think I can remember what that was like – I have a sensation that I associate with having two. But I’m not sure. You can’t tell you say. It’s like you never knew before – when there was more. But I can sometimes; it swings lower now, freer, scared. Everything – every rash, every lump, every jitter could be – it. Back back again. That’s no way to live.

you like thai?

coming down tails and ties
I'm nothing if I'm not this high
there's an orbit to be made, languid and
crushed stinging
eye-shadow crimes still dangling
the 80's in your face
I did my time then - eating out,
taking in the sites
Leary would like it that way,
outer-rim spectacle an' all
Not like Stevens, nope, not like him at all
That's how I can tell, the chips, the metal
teeth
danger, danger,
circularities of wool, showing knitting's not
the adventure sport grandma would have you believe
she's nothing new.
so today's city scrappy, vengeful tiles,
the whole caboose-shunt-dodge no more
that's where I'd be -
hey don't you want to bleed?
there's all guarantees it's better than
a promise
where you been then, huh?
maybe better than the last, flick up tail
dot
for
dot
Noting how passing me makes the talk of drinks
sardine the time-line into rugs and dark-chocolate
I want to wear sandles and socks-
I had permission aged 5
a nod, a wave, a coat-tail flick.
Done.

titles

breaking the rules is harder than it looks

they're wiry and tough, more orange-peel sticky than banana-skin slick

how is it you found this place?

SaturnV

...rolling arches, a lit-stack datamatch made in heaven,
more slick nano than moorish goul...

I've made adjustments to the sync, it wont jam up so quick
Like ice-fire on Krypton?
Not this time, not this time
Something different then - an upgrade filament-boost
Tinkled with the timing, subtle but efficient
Interesting...
Nothing more than you would have done, in my...
Alright, let's out-face this and be done.

...skeet-pull acid triggers, a false-sealed double hull
of nomenclature and outdated metaphorics,
ringing heat-flares like a doublet in knife edge slack nights...

my, my - endless legs...
corporate biomeld - out of Seattle
pricey?
Not if you know who to -
Fuck?
Persuade...
Sure thing.
Same thing.
Not this gal

...movable feast, horror-box datacasts into hard space
out here, the time serves itself.
I've already pulled outer-time - drives you...

Away.
Something like -
On Stack?
Yeah.
How -
Long enough
See you in...then...
Yeah.
Yeah.

...lift out, gleaming haze and note-perfect slant,
Venetian interiors and mind-melds, nothing's quite
Saturn is it anymore?...