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Monthly Archives: March 2012

Fifteen billion years ago, there wasn’t much.
Nothing at all, really.
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere,
There was the Big Bang.
 

Bang!

it went, only louder than that.
 
And everything happened.
 
Stars. Planets. Galaxies.
Trees. Cows. The colour blue.
Deoxyribonucleic acid.
Screw-top jars. The Democratic Republic of the Congo.
Lions. Absurdist Theatre.
World War Two. Pencils. Thunder.
The delicate touch of a butterfly alighting on a chrysanthemum.
Moonbeams. The Great Barrier Reef.
Clowns.
And automatic teller machines.
Everything.
All because of the Big Bang.
 
I had a Big Bang last night.
Her name was Stacie.
I didn’t see any planets or galaxies or screw-top jars.
A good thing really:
It was only a single bed.   
            
–          Copyright © 2012 Russell Proctor
When I die,
I want to come back as a banana.
Then I’d lie
In your fruit bowl and you would feel calmer
Knowing I was nearby,
On your table.
Yellow.
Then when you picked me up I’d say “Hello!
“It’s me. I’m a banana. Bet you’re surprised!”
 
When I die,
I want to come back as a rubber duck.
Then I’d sit in your bath and with any luck
When you pulled out the plug
I’d spin round and round
Over the hole.
And watch you dry yourself on a towel.
 
When I die,
I want to come back as one of those
Little bits of cotton wool they stick
In the tops of medicine bottles.
Then I’d be the first thing you touch
As you grope in agony
For soothing relief.
 
When I die,
I want to come back as a banana.
Anyone can be a pineapple.
 
–          Copyright © 2012 Russell Proctor
My mate Brian
Bought himself a new car.
It’s got a 2.4 valve fuel-injected overhead underslung differential with a turbo-charged automatic trans-carby radiator cap.
Or something.
 
Brian likes cars.
And football.
And chicks.
And words of one syllable.
 
My mate Brian
Brought his new car round to show me.
“This is me new car,” he said.
“Good one,” I said.
(I never miss a chance to show off me knowledge of mechanical stuff.)
 
Brian and me
Went for a drive in his new car.
We were going to pick up a couple of chicks.
Or something.
Probably something.
 
So there we were,
Cruising down the main drag.
“Why don’t you floor it?” I asked,
Thinking that’s what guys with new cars like you to say.
“Ok,” he said.
And he floored it.
Right up the back of the ute in front.
 
Jeez I laughed.
 
Brian had to pay for the damage to the ute.
He doesn’t take his new car out much anymore.
Reckons the chicks are going to have to come to him.
So he sits there, staring out at his new car in the driveway,
Chickless.
 
I don’t know,
If he wasn’t me mate
I’d think Brian was a bit thick.
 
–          Copyright © 2012 Russell Proctor