The school team were down a player
and I looked like the answer to their prayer
wandering out from chess club late
inadvisably I said Great!
I didn’t have the kit
so I had to improvise a bit
in a pair of shorts
abandoned on the tennis courts
and my shoes and socks and shirt
I looked absurd
but what really hurt
was when I was running down the wing
shouting anything
that came into my head
when I overheard something a parent said
How can you play your heart out in your tie?
because unfortunately
no-one had told me
to take it off
and I wasn’t cool or savvy enough
to figure out that stuff
so I must’ve looked ridiculous, awkward
a marketing executive for a centre-forward
running about, away from the play
but suddenly the ball got passed my way
I felt a surge
a powerful urge
to prove myself, to shine
to seize my time
and prove them all wrong
to show I DID belong
that you CAN be a nerd
but still have an absurd
talent for the game
like (…insert the name
of a footballer here
because really I’ve no idea…)
in a shirt and tie
an accountant’s haircut but an assassin’s eye

so I waved my arms, did some fancy stuff
that ended up being just wild enough
to beat a couple of dazed defenders
and ignoring the desperate shouts from the centre
I charged at the goal, took a shot
and ended up missing by quite a lot

*

a month or so later I was cycling by the pitch
when the team was getting spanked by Friday Bridge
I shouted out to show them who supported them the most
and cycled head-first into a concrete lamppost

And God saith unto Noah
This Man thing I made’s a total no-goer
I thought it might be a slow grower
but I turn round for a minute
and the place has gone to shit
so that’s it
Forget it
I quit
totally regret it
The Earth’s fucked and I’m going to reset it

Uh-huh
saith Noah
who knoweth well his God
how when he bloweth his wad
it’s often safest to smile and nod

…so I’m sending a big flood
a cataclysm of water and mud
to cleanse the blood
And what YOU’VE got to do
is build yourself a floating zoo
for you & your brood
and every single animal in twos
a kind of Gucci nature cruise
– but you look confused…

and when Noah didst finally clear his throat
he saith Jesus Christ that’s some big boat
would it even FLOAT?
I mean – yes, the world is thronged
with swingers in thongs
going at it like frogs in a pond
all night long
and sometimes I worry I don’t belong
but come on!
isn’t a flood just WRONG?

You dare to defy me?
Your Lord God Almighty?
When did YOU get so feisty?

And Noah didst most simply shrug
and secretly adjust his stone butt plug

Ian lived over the road
I used to go
over there a lot
not
because we were friends
– that would bend
the definition
out of all recognition
no, it was because he had a lot of stuff
and my jealousy was just enough
motivation
to overcome my hesitation
and keep me knocking
(which I freely admit was pretty shocking)

what Ian had that I didn’t:

1. Ian’s dad worked in a canning factory
   (not in the warehouse: something managery)
   he’d struggle backwards through the door with boxes of stuff
   many times more than enough
   for a tidy family of two
   not like us, the kind of sprawling, brawling clan who’d
   segment an orange and fight to the death
   over who took the flesh and who took the pith
   no – this was food of a higher dimension
   Planter’s Peanuts in a can, not to mention
   all the pears and apricots and peaches
   each
   in enormous catering sizes
   and my eyes
   would widen
   as Ian’s dad struggled to hide ‘em
   in a blanketed stack in the hall
   and I knew they’d never get through it all
   so it teetered there taunting me
   totally haunting me
   but if I put out a hand
   Ian would stand
   and say no
   and I’d say why
   and he’d say because
   and I’d get a can and throw it at his face
   and I’d be ordered out post haste
   and we didn’t speak
   and that was our friendship for ANOTHER week
   
   
2. Ian had a Hot Wheels Triple Loop kit
   and I totally lusted after it
   far and away the most amazing thing yet
   Ian let me set
   the track up
   but he’d put my back up
   when he launched the cars and I had to catch em
   bring them back so he could despatch em
   over and over and over
   like I was the crew but he was the owner
   which in a way you’d have to say he was
   and I’d say can I have a go
   and he’d say no
   and I’d say why
   and he’d say because
   and I’d get a car and throw it at his face
   and I’d be ordered out post haste
   and we didn’t speak
   and that was our friendship for ANOTHER week
   
   
3. Ian had a mechanical horse
   A MECHANICAL FUCKING HORSE!
   with the kind of stirrups
   when Ian worked them moved him forwards
   rattling along the pavement
   me standing by in amazement
   and I’d say can I have a go
   and he’d say no
   and I’d say why
   and he’d say because
   and I’d push him out of the saddle
   and straddle
   him on the floor
   and his mum would hurry outdoors
   in her slippers
   saying I was a disgrace
   and pack me off post haste
   and we didn’t speak
   and that was our friendship for ANOTHER week

then one day they moved
(I think it was me but it can’t be proved)

I wonder what Ian’s doing now?
I imagine him in politics somehow
WE NEED INVESTMENT IN PUBLIC SERVICES
so Ian surfaces
on the evening news
to vocalise the government’s views
which is essentially no
and the interview says Oh?
Why?
and he says because
and the interviewer starts thrashing him with her questionnaire
and the news gets taken off the air

I normally wake before the phone beeps
but this morning I was still deeply asleep
dreaming about cats with big paws and bad teeth
an old cheetah, a stupefied lion
staring at me through the tatty old blinds
of the kitchen door, chewing sticks
as their ropey tails flick
and they smile and say ‘yes YES’
like they need to express
just how much they’re enjoying the wood
and would eat a lot more of it if they could

quite what it meant I couldn’t decide
although I remember someone once described
how the key to unlocking dreams is to recognise
you are everything
the cats, the sticks, the eating
So – did the cheetah mean I was cheating?
Did the lion mean I was lying?
And the sticks? Was I stuck in something?
Or maybe it was simpler than that.
Maybe I’m a mangy old cat
doomed to stand at the back door of life
pretending I’m okay but always outside

whatever

I groaned
snoozed the phone
Who cares about the dream, the symbols in it?
What I really need is ten more minutes.

I’m sure I’d have the same reaction
come the resurrection
phone trumpets blaring
everyone yawning and swearing
in the municipal cemetery
standing blearily
up through the pendant grasses
smacking the dirt from their bony arses
smiling, ironically saluting
in the general direction of the ethereal tooting

all except me
obviously
I’ll be rolling over grumpily
Who cares about the Messiah over there?
What I really need is a thousand more years.