Searching For The BIG Answers


' -instead your feelings
follow your career down the drain
& find they like it there...'
John Forbes: 'Speed, a pastoral'

I watch storm clouds move in
over Bondi.

Thinking how BIG
everything's getting.

The joggers are running
for cover.

I wish this mood would do
the same.

The surfers unmoved
follow the traffics lead.

While I wonder if thinking
about it helps.

Someone once told me Tony Hancock
thought about things too much.

The rain is visible,
curtain falling the horizon.

'We're at that stage.'
You told me last week and

I was scared you were going
to ask me-

something I didn't have a
BIG answer to.

The beach is empty now, except for
the surfers, the graffiti and me.

'Love you Mary, George 1992.'
in people-sized letters.

You ended up talking

And I couldn't give you any

I watch storm clouds move in
over Bondi.

Lightening cracks the sky
the wind cleans up the beach.

A couple of surfers

We agreed to give it some
more time.

We're searching for the
BIG answers.

The wind gusts the first drops
of rain up into my face.

I'm wet through, cold
very quickly.

'It's all a money thing.'
You told me.

'You need something
that pays well.'

Bondi beach has disappeared
behind the rain.

I decide to do the

I climb slowly up the
slope away from the beach.

My clothes are wet and cold
against my skin.

At the top of the slope
I look back over the beach.

I watch the lightening flare
and the sea react.


Forward to the poem Teachers