The Simple Gift (17 page)

Drinking by the river

Today

Old Bill and I met at the river.

I brought some lunch

and soft drinks.

Old Bill laughed

when I passed him a ginger beer.

We sat by the bank

watching the sun sparkle

on the water,

with the ducks gliding by

and an ibis on the opposite bank

near a log

looking for food,

while Old Bill

told me about his job

years ago

in an office

with his name on the door

and the days he worked overtime

not getting home

until late

with his wife waiting

and Jessie in bed

reading a book

determined not to fall asleep

until he arrived home.

We watch the ibis

search under the log.

Old Bill tells me about

the trust account

from those days,

that pays him just enough.

He drinks his ginger beer

and pulls a face at its sweetness.

He sees me watching him

and says

it's taking a while

for him to get used to

the taste of being sober

all day.

Respect

It feels strange

sleeping in a bed again

with sheets crisp and clean

and a big doona,

and being able to watch television

and play music

and cook the proper food

that Caitlin brings.

I wander through the house,

so big,

much bigger than a train carriage.

I love the curtains,

yes, I know it's weird,

but I love closing the world out

by pulling them across

and in the morning

spreading them wide

and letting the sunshine through.

It feels like a home

where I can look out

and not be afraid of who sees me,

or who I see.

Every morning

I clean this house

and I don't let anything break

or get dirty

because this house

is not mine.

I know I'm only here

for a while

so I tread lightly

with respect

for this house

and for Old Bill.

Maybe

I told Irene

about my new house

and Old Bill.

She said she was glad

but worried

about money for me

living in the house.

I thought about the cannery

and fruit picking.

Irene went over to the resource section,

brought back a TAFE handbook

and an application form

for government study assistance.

If they paid me

maybe,

just maybe,

I'd go back to school.

I took the form and the book,

told Irene I'd think about it,

and maybe

I will.

Holiday

I woke early, at sunrise.

I filled the thermos with

steaming hot strong coffee.

I packed Weet-Bix and milk

into my bag

and I walked the quiet dawn streets

to Bendarat Freight Yard.

I knocked gently, twice,

and opened Old Bill's door

to the sound of his snoring.

I poured the coffee

and he woke, swearing as usual,

with me laughing

that anyone could wake so angry.

Old Bill swore some more

then laughed at himself

as he started breakfast.

Today he ate three helpings

and drank the thermos

and on his last cup

he told me of his plan

to head north, taking his time.

And he said,

‘Don't worry about the house

and its ghosts,

I'm taking them with me,

they need a holiday,

and so do I.'

I didn't know what to say,

so I sat there

looking at the freight train

shunting carriages in the distance

across the tracks

where

months ago

an old man

dropped his beer

and sat down to cry.

I said to Old Bill,

‘I love the house',

and I left it at that.

The hobo sky

After breakfast

I cleaned the bowls

and packed everything

back into my bag.

We shook hands

and I told him

the Bendarat Hilton

was the best motel

I'd ever stayed in.

Old Bill laughed

and said, ‘Me too'.

I crossed the tracks

heading to the library.

When I looked back

I saw Old Bill

with his back to me

looking up at the sky.

He stood there for a long time,

not moving,

like he was praying,

then he picked up his swag

and walked slowly,

deliberately,

north.

I watched until he

was out of sight

and I looked up

into the sky,

the deep blue sky

that Old Bill and I shared.

LOVE, GHOSTS & NOSE HAIR

Steven Herrick

Shortlisted CBCA Book of the Year for Older Readers 1997

Shortlisted NSW Premier's Literary Awards 1997

Jack is sixteen. He's obsessed with the beautiful Annabel, the ghost of his mother, and nose hair.

I have just written a great poem.

A Classic.

One that's so good

University Professors will read it, badly,

in front of hundreds of students

twenty years

after I die

to prove to the world

what a jewel

what a gift

what a gem

I gave

what a poet I was.

Love, Ghosts & Nose Hair
is a bittersweet comedy written in verse for young adults.

ISBN 978 0 7022 2878 0

First published 2000 by University of Queensland Press

PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia

Reprinted 2001, 2002, 2003 (twice), 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008 (twice), 2009, 2010, 2011 (twice), 2012

This edition published 2014

www.uqp.com.au

[email protected]

© Steven Herrick 2000

This book is copyright. Except for private study, research,

criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act,

no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,

or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior

written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

Cover design by Jo Hunt

Typeset in Adobe Garamond 12/14pt by Post Pre-press Group, Brisbane

Printed in Australia by McPherson's Printing Group

Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

National Library of Australia

Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available from the National Library of Australia
http://catalogue.nla.gov.au

ISBN 978 0 7022 3133 9 (pbk)

ISBN 978 0 7022 5231 0 (epdf)

ISBN 978 0 7022 5232 7 (epub)

ISBN 978 0 7022 5233 4 (kindle)

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