THE GREAT OCEAN ROAD:

Moon rising over the rim of dad’s jeans, building windbreaks 
for the family down on the beach. Smiling dog, the colour of 
sand, caught in sea spray, blows like a fur ball, laughing. 
All the girls go, 

“Ahhhh…”

(K)

THE COST OF SPEED:

Escaping flies in the wind down on the beach. Girls dressed in black 
point their cameras at the waves smiling for everywhere but here, 
scoop tops, blacked out eyes. The ocean would eat them alive if 
they stepped inside, rip-tide carry them away.They dip their toes
and grin, flirting with temptation. 

(K)

THE GREAT OCEAN ROAD:

Three hours of black top to see Evil Santa floating in his boat,
fishing in the lake. Steam rising off the road in the heat after 
the rain. Sea forever, it’s a pastel view all the way South to 
the Pole. I came here to wreck my ship on a moontide.
“Farewell” it says, on leaving, “Please call again in your shiny 
red car”

(K)

CELEBRATE THE SUN:

The Red Earth sings, eucalyptus’ dance to the rhythm of raindrops,
corrugations, brutal box architecture concealed amongst the trees. 
Your big glass eyes, staring out to sea, celebrate the sun.

(K)

DANCING ZIG-ZAG TO THE BUTTERFLY GARDEN: 

Breath sweet, the warm wet air. Tired bones to rest on bright and soft,
walk zig-zag carpet to Butterfly Garden, shower off the sky then climb 
back into it’s arms.
 
There is no time like this nor will be again. 
Look around, take note and document meticulous every occupant of these 
salad days. Cherish everything, signified and signed with such exotic aromas. 
Look around,remember the faces and the smiles, the quiet conversations and 
laughter. Learn the rhythm of this beautiful dance and pass it on.

Though it will never come again, 
for a flicker 
it is all yours.

(K)

FIRST WORDS OF NOTEBOOK (summer) 1995:

Sitting in the kitchen with my haircut
10 quid bargain
thinking of you
candle
sunset
(summer evenings)
white that isn’t white
wax between wood
(fresh green)
(Smelling)
(the aroma) of fresh cuts
warm air
to talk
uncertain
reckless
or perhaps even honest

(K)

FIRST WORDS OF NOTEBOOK 16.11.94:

Can you call back?
can you call back in like 2 minutes?
or shall I get your number?
OK
why don’t you call me back in 2 minutes?
Can you call me tomorrow?
Can you call me late afternoon?
I would’ve called you straight back when you called this morning
only you didn’t leave your number

yeah

call me late afternoon
that would be great
or what about tomorrow?
what you doing tomorrow?
maybe Sunday
I tell you what
if you call me from somewhere with a number
why don’t you leave it
I might be like in-and-out
and could call you back

(K)

FIRST WORDS OF NOTEBOOK Sept 1994:

Bare feet
Green grass
it’s a field
(cool on a hot day)

it’s quite the silence
feels good between your toes

you look up the Blue
your eyes look wonderful
see the sun picture
feel it on you
thinking of you

I worked it out
it’s enough

(K)

FIRST WORDS OF NOTEBOOK June 1994:

She’s outside pruning the lemon tree
he’s inside feeling the smile
answering the phone

She screams
from thousands of miles

“Oh God it’s you, I can’t believe! I was dreaming!”

(K)

/

FIRST WORDS OF NOTEBOOK May 1994:

Mmmm…nice engine!
Moonflower
Sunflower
nodding power through the hand-held Super train

Newsboy
candle
rattling on the rails
suger junk
gold moon in a blue sauce 
gold moon in a blue snow storm bottle thing
gold moon – yeah!

(K)