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The Wharf
by Paul Garner
I feel like there's either no possible way it can turn out right, or no possible way it can go wrong... all a matter of mindset I guess. It's like the weather - one thing's for sure... it'll rain eventually. Another thing's for sure... the sun'll come out. And in the meantime, what is is. I want to burn loud, without anyone noticing / getting in my way _ proceed like osmosis. No one's going to get in my way because I'm making my own path, don't laugh, it's true. And I still have to find a little love. Going down to the wharf I encountered three sailors. The birds were singing and the ships bells a-ringing and the wooden planks creaked underfoot, brown and spiny with their steel-capped boots. I hummed along with the accordion as he played Jimmy Smith's "Messin' Around". Yeah it was a crazy old town, and it was time for me to fly the coop. Bringing it back from under the covers I put on my false beard and everything began to slip into place. "Hello!" I shouted, startling a seagull who flapped into the moonlight carrying a lone ketchup-soaked chip with him. I followed up through the thick oil-painted clouds as our swing shifted gear and I began to imagine I might never sleep again, but it was only coke and blues. "Where's my slice of the pie?" I wondered. "What pie?" howled the neighbourhood mongrel. The bar was deserted. Closed in fact, but I broke a window and let myself in. The bartender was nowhere to be seen. "Figures" I thought, but it was already too late as by then I was on my second whiskey. I kicked over a few chairs for effect then shuffled off down the alleyway. The cats cried like babies from every wall and I began to wonder WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON until all of a sudden I came into an electric lightbulb oasis of illuminated calm, pink and goldleaf icecream frozen horses running in circles. A saxophone line from a nearby jazz club floated free as a whisp of cigar smoke out on the breeze... out to sea to mingle with salty dreams, rolling white foam, long wavy tresses of kelp and seagulls. Where I can't follow right now...
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Copyright © 2002 - Paul Garner. |
