Poems ✍️

My travels on that day
had led me to Dan Murphy.
The biggest liquor store
in all of our Down Under.
For scientific reasons
I needed to elucidate
exactly what medicinal
and nutritive concoctions
were being sold to man.
A matter for my social conscience.
I took some samples,
by the case of course,
there would be ample time
throughout the season
to test in vivo, most of them.
And share the findings only
after a thorough evaluation.
Which does require some repeats,
you know, it's like Koch's Postulates.
The next short stop would be
the Russian Deli, highly recommended.
I wandered over, with the thought
that also, on that day a haircut
was badly needed, so I looked
and spotted a clean Barber Shop.
Two gentlemen were drifting past,
one with a mop of hair, a youngster.
The other must have bugged the man
who then had cut and shaved to spite.
Remembering my training from the past
I thought, hold on this could perhaps
be Saywell, the great poet from Tweed Heads.
He'd mentioned briefly something about Buddha.
Was there a symbolism here, in Tweed?
Well, yes it was, and I did skip the Barber,
we had some thirty-six in Celsius today
so it would pay to keep some insulation
on top, who cares about the colour.
Uncanny instinct drew us into the shade
of a small meeting place with pretty staff,
we talked while tasty, and ice cold Victoria Bitter
facilitated a proper atmosphere.
Too short, we did exchange ideas,
I walked away with a small book
of poetry, all written by the man.
And when we meet again, my friend
we shall not only smile but also have
a bit more time, as Mr. Glen Fittock
and Jack have promised to attend.
It's nice when souls can meet who seem
to know and recognise each other
perhaps from ages past, when ghosts
and spirits had the run of all the world
and when the universe was still okay.
I even think that they had a supply
of VB Bitter, since the taste is so familiar.