CORAL BAY

Tavern:  Happy Hour



                                                                                                                             

somebody has already been sick on the        
       grass and a woman in tight         
         clothes is dancing with herself       
          near the counter where blokes      
         in fishing gear are getting their      
 drinks:                                 

Tim asks one of them how we can get to        
see the whale sharks:          

‘don’t ask me, mate,’ the bloke yells,               
‘I’m just here for the piss:’    

so we order our beers inside, two for            
    the price of one, for one hour:  

and the TV spurts through the talk: ‘it’s        
      day four of the Commonwealth  
      Games: Australia’s ready to go:  
    we’re chasing gold today: and  
 it’s great to be an Aussie:’    

and the tight-clothed lady dances and            
she dances:                         

‘it’s just something I do,’ she calls out:            

and a fisherman explains how his mate’s        
    boat holed itself on a reef that  
   was covered over by the glaze
of light on blue water, on the
  blue transparent water:          

‘shit happens, don’t it?’ he bellows, ‘but          
   she’ll be right, mate, she’ll be  
be right:’                             

then we go outside with our beers and          
find a table in the light of the
  lights that stare down at the   
 garden:                                 

and the swimming pool shines and the          
wet tables shine and the wet
glasses shine on the shining  
  tables, and legs and arms and
   necks and faces shine with the
    sweat of the night and the ooze
       of tanning oils and body lotions:   

and a man lies where he has fallen, his          
  swollen belly shining white in  
the light and the wet heat:    

and the music from the speakers on the        
poles among the trees fumes
    and blasts and flares and rages:

and the trees’ leaves hang drained of            
 green as the lights shine on    
  them, shine on them, shine on
  them such that the trees stand
       with crippled shadows and dark  
  hearts in the lighted darkness:

and the darkness swells beyond the            
      lights and above the lights          
           and far beyond and far above,        
  so very far, out into the cold  
   shaking emptiness at whose    
   far reaches the quasars spew,
 blaze brighter than bright as  
                   they gorge on dust, gas, furying:              

and the tight-clothed lady dances from        
  the tavern and looks about as
      she dances and turns her back,  
         turns back to the counter where    
 blokes shout and curse and  
  scratch their balls:                  

and the music brays, bursts, and the leaves  
   shiver, and the lights stare and
     they shine and they make things
shine, make all things shine:  

a happy hour, a happy happy hour, one      
 happy hour                          
                                         
            




BACK          HOME          LIST          NOTES          BIOGRAPHY          GUESTBOOK          FORWARD