lazy sunday afternoon

golden sunlight falls on the floor
somelife
somelife you maybe never led
warm nursery where its sunday
the old toys where they used to be
pandy bear
and the soldiers
and the cards
on the sleepy carpet where the marbles roll
the other children are waiting
fitzy, glenny, the burns twins, billy franklin
and all the rest
put your toys away son says mum
and you can go outside
outside where the birdsnests and lizardfrogs are
the cricketgames and lostballs
sunday afternoon stretches off out there
tranquil day of rest
fathers smoking pipes raking leaves thoughtfully
mothers baking pies waving thru the glass
in the courtyard a brown dogs sleeps in the sunday
bells ring and flowers bloom
guests have arrived across the road
see the white clouds tossed in the blue sky
at the seaside its always sunday
frozen sunday jokes fitzy
false tooth fitzy cos he gotta tooth knocked out playing footy
fltzy can do tricks with his false tooth
including ejecting jets of water like an archerfish
fitzy has a white paper bag
a bobs worth of mixed lollies
you can have anything but my white frog he says proffering the bag
was that part of the bob or was it extra says franklin
cmon franklin the frogs are a penny each said burnsy
a penny each said his sister
anyway the chocolate bullets are pretty good
said with a good mouthful
yes a frozen sunday
people listening to the radio
people sleeping in
people congratulating themselves they are part of sunday
the cars slow down and look for parks
cmon says fitzy twisting his tooth a bit
but i have to go back
no kilbey
no no say the burns twins
cmon kilbey says billy and glenny
and we walk thru the car park
where the weeds have cracked the asphalt
sprouting their own flowers
and the gentle afternoon that doesnt move
as we slip thru the cars
the hillmans
and humber super snipes
the triumph vitessess
the vauxhall veloxes n victors
the fjs and the futuras
the cortinas and the zephyrs
the imps and singer gazelles
the riley pathfinders and sunbeam tigers
the morris majors n minors
the austin freeways and lancers
the renault caravelles n florides
the galaxies and jaguars
the specials and premiers
the fairlanes and healey sprites
we come at last to the a mysterious field
the bush says franklin smiling
no kevin says burnsys sister
cmon the rest of us say
ok she says
warm golden light
among the trees
in the pines by the sea
blue sunday sea containing only boys and girls
shallow warm transparent sunday sea with floating boys and girls
with deck chairs and banana beds on the shore
and the sea shells whispering "ocean"
and the children amongst the afternoon shadows
their still wet fringes plastered against their tanned foreheads
and the boys so muscled
the girls so shapely
and theyre drinking vanilla thickshakes
and listening to the hit parade
last night they had a school dance
and romance has blossomed into a frozen sunday
holding them there
fitzy gives billy franklin a leg up into a tree
and billy climbs up into the canopy like a monkey
burnsy and his twin sister are talking about something
franklins gonna get an egg says fitzy
from a wood pigeon he adds
and sure enough
billy drops outta the tree with a small blue egg in his pocket
im gonna blow it he says
i'll put a pin in here and blow it clean
why i ask just wondering
for his egg collection they all say incredulous
we come to a little creek and everyone jumps it except me
i end up with mud up to my ankles and sloshingly wet to boot
we come to barbed wire and i get caught by my shirt
we come to a field with a bull and he chases me around
but no one gets hurt on sunday here
the sun just shines and the birdies sing in the trees
and dogs chase balls
and cats dream of chasing mice as they sleep in the spare room
above the shop where the maltese family lives
and fitzy lets me have his last musk stick
and he finally starts on the white frog
you coulda got 12 cocktail fruits says burnsy cluck clucking
12 says his sister
fitzy looks ruefully in his empty white paper bag
yeah he says
the graveyard is behind a church
the angels and flowers
the birds twitter twitter
blackberry brambles
thorns enter sunday
punctured
it begins to go soft
soft golden sunday collapsing beautifully like a stolen egg
frozen sunday suddenly melting
and all its pieces flowing away
fitzy says lets go
and we run half laughing half screaming
back through the bush and fields
squeezing thru the parked cars
all the way down our street
i run inside
and hide