Bruce Dawe - Enter Without So Much As Knocking lyrics

Memento, h*mo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris. (Epigraph: Remember, man, that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return.) Blink, blink. HOSPITAL. SILENCE. Ten days old, carried in the front door in his mother's arms, first thing he heard was Bobby Dazzler on Channel 7: Hello, hello hello all you lucky people and he really was lucky because it didn't mean a thing to him then... A year or two to settle in and get acquainted with the set-up; like every other well-equipped smoothly-run household, his included one economy-size Mum, one Anthony Squires- Coolstream-Summerweight Dad, along with two other kids straight off the Junior Department rack. When Mom won the Luck's-A-Fortch Tricky-Tune Quiz she took him shopping in the good-as-new station-wagon (£ 495 dep. at Reno's). Beep, beep. WALK. DON'T WALK. TURN LEFT. NO PARKING. WAIT HERE. NO SMOKING. KEEP CLEAR/OUT/OFF GRASS. NO BREATHING EXCEPT BY ORDER. BEWARE OF THIS. WATCH OUT FOR THAT. My God (beep) the congestion here just gets (beep) worse every day, now what the (beep beep) does that idiot think he's doing (beep beep and BEEP). However, what he enjoyed most of all was when they went to the late show at the local drive-in, on a clear night and he could see (beyond the fifty-foot screen where giant faces forever snarled screamed or make incomprehensible and monstrous love) a pure unadulterated fringe of sky, littered with stars no-one had got around to fixing up yet: he'd watch them circling about in luminous groups like kids at the circus who never go quite close enough to the elephant to get kicked. Anyway, pretty soon he was old enough to be realistic like every other godless money-hungry back-stabbing miserable so-and-so, and then it was goodbye stars and the soft cry in the corner when no-one was looking because I'm telling you straight, Jim, it's Number One every time for this chicken, hit wherever you see a head and kick whoever's down, well thanks for a lovely evening Clare, it's good to get away from it all once in a while, I mean it's a real battle all the way and a man can't help but feel a little soiled, himself, at times, you know what I mean? Now take it easy on those curves, Alice, for God's sake, I've had enough for one night, with that Clare Jessup, hey, ease up, will you, watch it -- Probity & Sons, Morticians, did a really first-cla** job on his face (everyone was very pleased) even adding a healthy tan he'd never had, living, gave him back for keeps the old automatic smile with nothing behind it, winding the whole show up with a nice ride out to the underground metropolis permanent residentials, no parking tickets, no taximeters ticking, no Bobby Dazzlers here, no down payments, nobody grieving over halitosis flat feet, shrinking gums, falling hair. Six feet down nobody interested. Blink, blink. CEMETERY. Silence.