I Will

I am th' passenger
n I ride
n I write
n what will I ride about
this morning?
I'll write my will
I will
To my darlink undigested wife
I'll leave my every dying breath
for her
the last pumpings of my heart
my uncontrolled and thumping essence
the last traces ov a smell
my complete and yearning everything
for her
the total package of my life
To my beloved loved son
I leave
That handsome head of handsome curls and
That fishing mag I made him
Those happy days upon the riverbank
He knows
To my beloved loved lovely grrrls
I leave
My sweets, my shyness blushing nice-iness
My sometimes
Hey-you-a-bleedin-cop-r-somethun? attitude
when out raged and
That extra, extra-special gift
the magical ability to communicate
with cats
GET OFF MY LAWN
And to the dog
I leave my cap
My other hat he chewed
He might as swell
Go on n ate it all now
I'll write my will
I will
I won't
No, not today

remaining

I am a passenger

n beside me

a besuited legal gentleman is reading a stapled

document n I cannot help but overlook

(the respondent rejected the request of the applicant)

Och well now,

I am a passenger n

I saw her standing there

I have seat an she has none

Her huncomfortable handle hanging

and her hexpectin'

and stagnant on the bus

So I got up and axed her

offered her

You can take MY seat madam

(beside the legal gentleman)

No she violent

She stood n shook and glared

and I sat down

sat back down again

reddener

She wasn't stagnant

No not pregnant

And her hexpecting nothing but to

Continue remaining fat

a big big, big-boned girrl.

old lady

I am a passenger n

this Old lady

she sits besides me

Hexcited to be on th' bus

She wants to talk

I want to read

Oh! What a beautiful morning!, she sez

My husband

I have a son in Canberra

It's the parking

I don't drive as much as I used to

My eyes are not that good

But he tells me, Mum, don't

It was at least six feet long

He had the most beautiful laugh

That was in the war you know

Passed away recently, she sez

I want to read

That was in the olde days, of course, she sez

I only have my cat now, she sez

I put the book away

I tell her about the cats

For although unlike some other peoples

I'm not that mad fond ov cats

Tho' the cats they seem fond enough ov me

Perhaps bizcoz I stink ov fish

They're allus coming over

To say hello and sniff

Rub themselves agin me

Catch a stroke

Wi' tails like the indian rope trick

Naked holes

Like the dot off an exclamation! mark

We saved this orphan baby kitty onced

Nobody's chile

Dying of starvation and total ate alive wi fleas

It wouldn't eat

So I called it Bobby Sands

I didn't think he'd mind

Wrapped it in a blanket

And forced fed it with a syringe

It recovered to become a great big lump

She nodded and agreed

I've taken you from your book, she sez

No, no, not at all

Look, the harbour bridge

not do that

I am a passenger

upon the bus

n this woman I sits next to

Woman sez to me, she sez

Can you not do that?

Not do what?

Can you not use your lapstock on th' bus

The flickerinks of the screen

You see

It gives me a hedgeache

It gives you a hedgeache?

Yes

If you don't mind

But I do mind, missus

I feel like screening at her

But I am a passenger n I is allus polite

So I move anyway away

Across the aisle and continue

to ride

And at the next stop she is enjoined

by a bleeping beeping beat-bhoy

whose tinny drum n bass leaks loudly

She leans aginst th window

Throbbink

I believe in Christmas leave

Christmas eve n

I believe in Christmas leave

whole half day in the office

end then

from Ho's Dim Sim

a great big bag ov pork steamed buns

for the th' wee'uns

and on ahead towards home

O! The gorgeous Glory ov it

A L90 from down on George St thonder

and it likes the city, completely empty

just the happy driver and myself

and she as anxious as myself

to thunder out and further on

towards the summer's heat

on too those happiest Northern beaches

G'wan ye girl ye!

She would beat a Palm Beach Masserati!

Full power L90 all the way

Over the Bridge and up through Mosman

on twowards the Spit

ahead a evening stroll on Dee Why's promenade gelato

drag an esky to Long Reef

sheltered soft boards at Collaroy

to sit and eat the world's best spies

Chicken and asparagus, steak and cheese

a mexicano

In Narrabeen a peppered pelicano preens

up on the lampost

hides head beneath its swing

gawk beaked and yellow eyed

it stoops to read the signs

no fishing from the bridge - perhaps for locals only?

Hammer down and on ahead

We'll make the Scoatland island dog race yet

Our mongrel brute he just won't swim

but beJasus I will

Blue with mangrove muck and oyster cuts

and completely entirely happy out

among the two thin wadda

Warriewood and round the bend

Stretching the bendy bus ahead

To touch and reach

Our very own sacred Bongin Bongin Beach

and Oh! The Joy! To bathe amongst those rays

Whose flappink wings uncover the sunken beauties of the bay

the darting whiting, the silvered bream

Like a wheelbarrow, it's all before us

And as we sweep through Mona Vale

bottles shopped n sushi stuffed

turbo downhill and through the lights

rolling past twin shining servos

We're leaving the Office World far behind

Ahead lies the farther reaches of the beaches

this bus is bound for glory

Newport, Bilgola, Avalon and all the way to Palmie

Time to ring the bell, collect yer parcels and salute the driver

Thanks! And a Merry Christmas to ya, mate!

for this stop is where I start to take my leave...

naw, not really

I am a passenger

up on th' bus

n I move my bag

to let this other gent sit down

he thanks me

but I state

och now, no bother, mate

What part of Scotland are you from? He axes

Glasgow izzit?

Ah'm no fae Scoatland

Irish me

Sorry now, he sez, I thought

No dramas, mate. I'm very often times confused

We're very close apart

Sound very much the same

I've heard

mind dew, that's

the very one thing that I have here

the worstest trouble wi here

iz that no buddy can hunderstand me

can't mick out a word I say

exspecially on the phone

the wife she sez – and they can hunnerstann

her italiano quite plain – you muss

speak slower lentamente and pronunciate

not jist slabber hon

Heh

In the shops now I jist usually point

doan even try to talk.

I see, he said.

Well, I have relatives in Ballycastle,

do you know it?

Me? Naw, not really.

spindly

Across the darking evening bus

There sits a thin question markage ov a man

asleep

His spindly back full curvage round

too dripped a head

right down upon

his flatly opened book

the short story ov a broken neck

White corporation shirt,

grey tie, black slacks

Steel rim eyed hexhaustion

He looks so tired of reading

And sitting straight

N so he sorely bends

and painful dreams

of crookedness