Hey Little Fella

Hey little fella.

There are two kinds of people - those who cross the road with their
eyes shut and those who cautiously look around them. I'm the former,
the better but lesser diminishing half of this equation. It's a state
of mind that you only know you've reached when you don't know what
state of mind you're in. A moment in time when all those weird little
thoughts you normally chase out of one ear, come tumbling back in
through the other, waving a big stick to make you follow them through.
Ideas like putting on a crash hat, pouring paraffin over your head,
then running up to a bishop and telling them you've been struck down by
the wrath of God; little incidental everyday things. That's how it
starts anyway but even at this stage there is no turning back, no
listening to reason, everything simply pales before the purple,
unsightly magnificence of your next twisted idea.

So here I am now, and as I look around me; at the wreckage, the
dismembered friendships and limbs, the shattered lives and strange red
flowers on the wall falling slowly earthward, I realise I've made a
mistake. The gas cooker, the postman, the lady wrestler in a cage, the
parrot trained to say, 'Give it to me honey lips' and the Buddy Holly's
Jazz Explosion LP all know I've made a mistake too. I stand in time
like the man who's passed gas in a crowded elevator and wishes he could
retract this act of biological sedition. If only I could turn the clock
back. I scream it out loud, 'Turn it back'. I set about destroying this
demolished room; a mangled chair scuttles into the corner, silent vinyl
cracks against the floor, bits of bone dance and hide from my flailing
hands and feet. I catch a wild eye staring back at me from a piece of
broken mirror on the floor, I move and the eye changes to a mouth.
Still screaming, 'Turn it back'. The light falls to earth outside as
sundown arrives with its peaches and cream. Somewhere a spellbound
lover will stop to watch it final descent into the sea. I collapse with
the sun onto the floor. Parrot feathers rise and fall. The smaller
feathers continue spiralling in the air, their vibrant colours playing
cartoon tricks across the patches of bright blood upon the wall. My
voice becomes hoarse and fades, undulating along a thin line of silence
as the real objects in the room back away. In this part of the city
that never sleeps I am the only creature still awake. I scream, 'Turn
it back,' four walls scream it back at me.

I close my eyes and lever them open once again. I can see a feather
still twisting in the light, the same sunlight that just said goodnight
in such a lovely way; I see myself dancing in this bloodstained room,
beads of sweat racing teardrops along their route. I leave, then an
explosion happens in reverse; I see red and green feathers sucked into
a point in mid-air and hear a parrot talking like a telephone sex line.
Then, backwards, every event that's ever happened to me. Bad things and
good like cheating on lovers and eating ice cream with my toes in the
sea. I sit myself down in the best seat for the show, feeling like a
film star, clapping or crying depending on how things go.

Eventually, I find myself in a small beige room. There's a small boy
lying on the floor, playing with a toy car. I try to stop the film.
This boy is me but he's like a giant, ten times stronger than I am now
and all I've become. I drop down on my knees. He can't see me; I watch
a smile play on his lips. He moves his hand, unhindered by dull
memories or the knowledge of mistakes in his life. I tell him to watch
out. He ignores me. I try shouting; I try to throw things about the
room. I can't make him listen to a fool like me. Eventually, I give up
and lie down beside him. I place my eye at carpet height and stare
across its bulbous, beige, mountain landscape. I try to stare into his
mind to find out what's going on inside. He seems so content in what
he's doing, so far away from me. I take a deep breath to gulp down all
his unfulfilled dreams. My soot-filled lungs are too weak. I try to
remember what those dreams were, but somehow they're so difficult to
retrieve. I try again but he distracts me. He just picks up his car and
drives it right over my head. The room begins to fade. He's younger
already, I stay a while, my ear pressed against his heart in the dark,
counting each precious second, right up to the moment he was
conceived.