Futuristic Ice Cream Novel

Lollypop lady gives out lollipops to children of dinosaurs and

illegal immigrants. Rally here, rally here bring your cameras

and smart phones. Please do not SWEAR or smoke. (There are children about)

Moonlight optional, Hi- vis accepted, BBC outside broadcast.




5 am

It’s 5 am and the Ice Truckers are on the Ice road carrying oversized tyres. A pedipalp of emotions runs through your cerebrum. Tyres? Ice? Danger? DANGER? I’d rather Starbucks Hot Chocolate thank you. It’s seven am and there is a familiar certainty to the state of the world and the flow. of humanity. of different clothes wearing different bodies going separate places. Quietly and without a fuss. Like its all part of some divine plan. In an office, someone is cutting out paper people and putting them on top of buildings where somebody else will glue or staple them to till its time for another change.Them moments of recollection suppressed by newspapers offering you relief to buy happiness  and tv to see after dinner. On a schedule just like you. Begonias. grass. Cans of pop. It’s little it’s a lot. Chocolate bars at dawn. Eating muffins for breakfast. Strawberry scones for lunch or elevenses. Or a trip out to cholesterol heaven and a full English in a roll gets you drooling. what happened to work? new suit and IT guy. Office culture in a bun. Hum. It’s boring. Learning. A way to payday. A vision of rising at ten or later and making a bacon sandwich dripping with grease. Fried eggs. Mushrooms. Sausages. Beans. It’s better than it seems. It always is. Until you’re dead.

False Impresssion

It all means nothing if I can get this job.

The past erased and moved aside like

And I can stroll in every day like I own it.

And distant memories, accumulated wrappings of

names on labels packed lunches and ink blot and


blisters from broom handles burst

sending pus in my eyes in my hair.

Still the stare asking ‘are you there?’

or somewhere else suspended on hooks

maybe or gutted and skinned alive.

If I get this job nothing will change.

If I get this job doing it my way.

What will I do?

Bigshot flew.

And left Robin to fend while Thrush

wept and dreamt of his return.

Friends. People who are not your enemy.

People to do more than say hi to! To work with

side by side. Oh No!  Queen bee is looking for me

I have eggs to fertilise! All she wants is my seed!

Oh away with you queen! Find yourself a new drone!

Go sit on your throne and buzz off!

I have work to do with my friends and colleauges

we have plans too and ideas and targets

And an audience to satisfy.

Little did I know then that art could

be a living, a way out of poverty or

that words joined up together in strings

did not require inclusion in some pre-ordained canon

for them to be heard or even to matter.

If I had I would have paid more attention

to the lessons.

What do you call it when everything you love

is laid out before you? I think its called

Heaven but don’t you have to die to get there?

Well I have died in company more than once

more times than i like to remember in fact.

Or os this just misplaced nirvana or cocunut

hair?What will I do when i get there?

Park The Ride,Get Inside,Interview Time

Everything is humming and moving in time

People getting busy and moving in time

Watchers getting lossy and losing their stride

Peacocks are strutting and moving in time

Antlers are rutting and shoving aside

Children are walking having a time.

Clouds are gathering and glowering ahead

The workers are not getting out of bed

The ants on the ground cluster on a lollypop stick

And Am I the only one feeling sick?

Where does this happen today? Anyplace?

It’s just that it’s seared on my memory

like a chargrilled steak burned bits.

Am I talking to myself?

Am I not in good health?

Well enough to take a stage

and act something like my age

for the benefit of others that may hear

and act upon what I have to say

If and only if I get the chance.

At my interview today.