We know it is coming and knowing to be done.
Trip to city driving when coming from the bush.
Signs small, traffic fast, no quarter given, city folk.
A beep of horn as one pauses, while trying to think.
Lurch ahead to ?????? look for signs no longer there.
All the while the chatter stops, replaced by a stare
Some things are consistent:
Running out of time.
Getting lost.
Discussions will be had.
The Hard Yards 7-3-2021
Mate I’ve been a worker in the yards.
Times when the livestock made it hard.
Been astride horses particularly headstrong.
Long hot days when everything went wrong.
Little in Comparison to:
Tripping to a city day with the wife.
Some signs already turning into strife.
To expensive sunspot man, of skin care.
Blistered flesh, bloody knife, burning hair.
Running late, some pressure starts to rise.
I need to keep the cool that would be wise.
"The Conversation"
Come on mate, we have this place to go.
Driving is appalling, too fast or too slow.
I am doing my best for the address to find.
Try a little harder, can’t you read my mind.
Bloody hell you completely missed the turn.
Don’t you ever listen, will you never learn.
My calm reply: “when you shouted Right Right”
I looked and looked I could see no right in sight.
No No No you have it wrong, try to understand.
Sometimes, forget the voice, go with the hand.
My waving hand said quite clearly ‘take next left’
The calming starts to crumble to a stage bereft.
My voice sincere “You have mastered quite a feat”
Of driving skills superior, all from the passenger seat.
"The Silence"
Oh this is the street it seems we have arrived to here.
What a cranky face you have, give you wife some cheer.
Me: I am thinking of a friendly bar, serving ice cold beer.
Day is done heading home, visualising whiskey in the hand.
Knowing my tale is shared by menfolk throughout the land.
Message from a mate, could I help him tomorrow please.
50 crocs need circumcising, now that should be a breeze.
Hamish Holcombe 7-3-2021
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