Conrad’s apocalypse now.

Conrad’s apocalypse now.

With a few words of Conrad keeping me company

It was humid the sweat pumping

The muddy beach shimmering

All the way to the sea which looked

Worn out from all the effort it took

To break,

Everything moved slowly

The day was as bright as the light

Must be at the heart of darkness

Only a glance away.

I thought I saw a crocodile

But they don’t

Come this far south

At least that’s what they say

But the way the burger cartons

Were all chewed up, the random scattering

Of beer cans, the odd shoe poking out of

A festering pool of oily looking muck

It could all so easily have been

The work of a wily old croc

If I sat still long enough

He would come

Smashing through the dense stand

Of scrubby hedge bordering

The footpath from the swamp

Every time I looked up

Was I the only living thing

This side of the river

I hoped not

Last I heard the sea cows were still around

Foraging in the shallows

They would make a tastier bite than me

Too much of a mouthful for the Osprey I guess

I didn’t know about the croc

I don’t suppose he would miss a beat

If anything came his way

Even a Kangaroo like as not

I hadn’t seen a Cane Toad but they were rumoured

To be found laying waste

To most of Queensland

Feral pests as alien as a Rabbit or a Fox

Might be as toxic as open cast mining

Succulent food for the Black Kyte

Thankfully

As ugly as a promise of peace

From a warmonger.

A bin chicken rutted through the remains

Of a muffin

Carelessly displaced from a table

Outside the cafe across the road,

Weirdly closed at three,

The Ibis was so good at being

Unobtrusive for such a big clumsy

Looking bird

With an affected strut

Mimicking a Monty Python sketch

Although John Cleese is no joke now

A grumpy old soul, so they tell me

Not that it matters sitting out here

The air thick with humidity

A dusty mirror of the sea

It was time to pick up my book,

Unread

And return to the land of the living

Before I fell into my wilderness years.