Poem Pimp

We shot out of a rusty make-shift Kombi Van in front of the dusty tourist centre, anxious to

 get our sweaty feet onto some soft green after passing many an orange mile. The gold-rush

mining town was caught in a hush, sunken by the Northlands of the Swan Valley. It beat

silent as noonday in an old country and western film.

My blistering feet dashed across the road onto the soft green marsh. I threw my Coles carrier-

bag on the ground. I kicked off my thongs flooded with relief. The craving had not hit me

since we left Perth.

We stretched into the warm Northam sun glimpsing now and then the gentle movement of

river sloping downstream, as it flowed with the accustomed ease of a life lived at this pace.

My old mate Col’ sat down against a log and rolled the last of his weed. I smirked noticing

the familiar gap in his middle tooth. Come rain hail or shine he always looked the same, like

he had just staggered out of a Crosby, Stills and Nash concert and somehow got stuck in

1975. He always wore his loose hair and his groovy bandana swayed in the wind.

 “Peace man,” he droned, making the customary sign with his fingers.

“Puff.”

I laughed as he passed over the joint bumpily. “Thanks mate,” I said, with a sudden attack of

conscience. I cradled it before deciding whether to smoke the whole lot or do the right thing

and quit, but it was a long, dry day.

“Where’s the meeting then?” I coughed.

He pointed with an unsteady finger toward a small Anglican Church across the road from

what appeared to be the local Hardware store.

A jogger bowled passed with a smile as if to welcome us. Country hospitality, I thought

feeling comforted. I loosened my bra-strap ready to take a nap and noticed my white singlet

had gotten an orange stain on it making me look like a painter, but I didn’t care I was free.

“What time does it start?”

“Not until six I think,” said Col opening the freezer bag with trembling fingers.

“Crap!” I took a long drag feeling frustrated, and then another as I considered the time gap.

“Don’t expect many will show up on a Monday night though,” he squinted, digging his toes

into the unruly grass. A Dragon-fly dozed past. I passed the joint back to him.

“No. We won’t be that lucky," I yawned tasting the dry air.

We retreated into an oddly shaped grove of elms which hung like a steeple above us. I

rescued the Alcoholic Anonymous Big Book as it tumbled towards the bank thrown down by

the breeze. It flickered open a page, resting on: The Doctor’s Opinion.

I wiped off damp droplets and carefully smoothed down the cover as I started into the

chapter: After they have succumbed to the desire again, the phenomenon of craving develops

and they emerge from a spree feeling remorseful, with a firm resolution not to drink. 

I was shocked out of my reverie sometime later, when a half drunken bottle of coke flung

itself at my feet smacking my big toe.

“Ouch you bloody hippie!”  I cried playfully giving him the finger. I stood up too hastily to

rub my sore foot but slipped and fell on my arse instead.  

My sassy companion chuckled through parched lips and made a face as I limped about.

“Well, are you feeling inspired yet?” I joked trying to stifle a giggle.

He pondered the dare for a minute wrestling a blotched notepad from sunburnt shorts.

“Yep I think I’ve got something.” I took a swig of my drink knowing this might take a while.

Once Colin had caught the scent of inspiration he became like a manic-monkey and soon he

was ensconced in an elm scribbling against the soft tree bark.

The effects of weed made me clumsy and I struggling against the tide of slumber that was

coming. I spread my sleeping bag across the thick mat of grass.

Finally, Colin held his poem up in the air exclaiming triumphantly as though he had just

reconciled the theory of general relativity with quantum mechanics.

“I’ve got it!”

“Oh-dear-God, what have I done?” I teased as I rolled my eyes.

It never occurred to Colin that the other AA members cringed when it was his turn to share at

meetings, punctuating every sentence in his favourite limerick verse. But they enjoyed his

enthusiasm, paying in change for each piece they liked, which eventually earned him the

nickname ‘Poem-Pimp’ in our fellowship.

I sat up as he prepared to recite the new work, and tied my fuzzy hair up in a bun as I

listened. This was a far better cure.

Yellow teeth began the verse:

“Pet and Col arrived in Northam at noon.

 

On the way we ate lunch with a spoon.

 

The road was long and the dirt was red,

 

I smoked a bong and dreamed of bread…”

I rolled onto my back, finding cool comfort under the cathedral branches. The stirring river

water sung me into a long dreamtime. I let my memory swim in the whirlpool of shameful

faces and events which had lead up to my last blackout. I must have tried to kill myself but I

don’t remember how I got there.

“Hey mate you better come down…”

 

“Put down the bottle you’ve had enough”

 

Sticky memories clung like grimy ghosts to the cracked canteen of my mind. I knew I would

 

die if I didn’t surrender, but I needed help to get out of the spin cycle I was stuck in and the

 

peaceful calm of this place was where I could do it. My body sank into a stupor to the voice

 

of Colin still rehearsing.

 

But A.A. is still number one,

 

For without it we would die…

An incandescent light spilled around me and I saw the face of my best friend leap out of it.

Hey Brian, what are you doing here? He stood over me dressed in his blue tracksuit pants

with the red stripe down the side, the kind the army soldiers used to wear. But I was confused

because I was sure I was at his funeral.

I must be in blackout I thought, but the image persisted as a floating silver staircase opened

up behind him and other ghost faces descended the misty steps. So the dead do visit. I

realised as I watched them gather at my side in preparation for an ominous warning.

 “It was too late for me,” Brian said gently pointing and I realised he had to go back

“But you still have a choice” As he turned, I saw Aunty Rose standing behind him nodding

gravely.

The last time I knew her was in Royal Perth Hospital but I was a kid and I didn’t understand

then. I remembered the sour smell of her breath when we had reluctantly entered her dorm

and how she appeared smaller with her arms and legs all bunched up in her delirium.

“I miss you so much Brian, don’t leave me here, I can’t do it alone.”

“I’m sorry Pet I gotta go, but I got my drink, see? He held up a familiar bottle of Penfold’s

Port and I smiled.

Yeah I get it. I sobbed.

I knew I had to stay here and work, but our precious time together seemed to have passed too

quickly I felt, as I lay there drowning in the recesses of my mind.  I had been away for a lot

longer than I knew. An evening shadow swayed across me as I stirred.

“Time to go Pet,” Colin urged.

I followed him into the dim lights of the town that now seemed ready for us. The churches

cross raged with the full strength of the sun’s light and we arrived at the shore of hope where

the waters seemed safer in the shallows.

We had ridden out the storm and Colin found the sticky oak door and pulled it ajar bursting

into the warm, candle-lit hall. The familiar steps and tradition banners welcomed us hanging

up lopsided from a hook on the wall.  A fellow sufferer stood up and hugged me as we took

our seats sighing with relief. The preamble to the meeting that saved our lives had begun and

I knew I had made it home.