To the tech school, did monos,
Pissed in doorways, played cricket
As if no one was watching.
Our parents certainly weren’t.
It was the 80s, well before
Paedophiles, rapists, killers,
Although Chopper was in jail
Just down the road.
But he was a good guy, misunderstood:
He only targeted crims,
The earless long arm of the law,
Taking it easy in Jika Jika
While the guards fed him
Cigarettes and porn.
Now that I think about it,
My parents were taking a gamble.
Either they thought the world was safe
Or they didn’t give a shit.
They were thrust into responsibility
Too early and decided
It was not for them:
Dad wanting to be a rockstar,
Mum wanting to be a groupie,
So children were an afterthought…
Like handbags or shoes or that first
Dire Straights album (you know the one,
before they were famous?).
In the 80’s, children were accessories:
Easily lost, rarely found,
But delivered back with a no-return policy.
I have fond memories of my childhood,
But beneath that is a creeping horror
That I might be remembering it wrong:
That it was actually no different
To any other time in human history,
When the bad fought the good and,
Despite the hype,
The bad always won.
But I can’t believe that.
I look back on a golden time
Through rose-coloured glasses
And think: it’s alright.
It’s all good.
Yeah, I’m fine.
©Shaun Green 2023
