Plumbers and Gasfitters Employees’ Union Building, Melbourne, Graeme Gunn, 1968-71.
A COMPLICATED NIGHT
The street lights refuse to glow on this dark night,
adding to my increasing shivers and fright.
I should not have agreed to come here
in darkness crippling me with fear.
Through the lit window, I spot a figure.
The shadow moves closer and grows bigger.
My hand lifts to grasp the railing,
then both my arms are flailing.
A bullet has grazed my left shoulder,
leaving the pain behind to smolder.
My right-hand reaches across to staunch the blood
as I turn to flee before my tears can flood.
I zigzag through the deserted streets of the town,
all the while praying that no others are around.
Life of a spy is not an easy one,
like a roller coaster without the fun.
Straight ahead stands another figure.
He signals for me not to linger.
My partner opens the passenger door for me.
I am on my way to get out of this scot-free.
Does this place exist?
Is it an illusion?
I need palm trees.
My own oasis.
An escape from the world.
Empty of people.
I can see it.
Feel the hot sunshine.
Cold water on my toes.
A paradise so sweet.
Honey on my lips.
I’m there right now.
Don’t bother me.
Run away with me ❤
Come run away with me,
Down the stairs to the sea.
We’ll take a fast ship.
Champagne we will sip.
Leave our troubles behind.
New ones we’re sure to find.
We’ll be together forever.
To me, you will always tether.
Rocky waves are waiting ahead.
But with me, you will make your bed.
The blue sucks me in.
Velvet petals caress my face.
A buzzing bee whizzes past.
I’m inside the midnight blue darkness.
My head spins from its heady fragrance.
Lines of poetry beg to be written.
Will I yield to the blue darkness?
It’s a trap I cannot escape.
He has come for me.
I’ll never be free.
He comes this night.
Fear at first sight.
He claims his love.
But he’s no dove.
He’s evil as can be.
Always searching for me.
I must hide until morning.
Or the town will be mourning.
The devil hides his face.
I know his deadly pace.
His footsteps ring hollow.
Steps quicken to follow.
He sings a sweet song.
I know I’m not wrong.
The devil is right behind me.
Even though his face I can’t see.
He has me in his grasp.
I cry out with a gasp.
He kisses me with passion.
I know this is his fashion.
To take what is not his.
And make me only his.
THE DEAD GAME
The old bookstore.
Why don’t we have these anymore?
Books covering ceiling to floor.
Happiness between the binding.
What a perfect and safe finding.
Read in the candlelight.
Nothing can be as right.
Pictures and words before my eyes.
Reading about truth and some lies.
You’ll definitely find me hiding.
The tall shelves of books I’ll be minding.