Sit down, clear your mind, and write whatever comes into your head. The fat man was sitting on a bench, And smoking carelessly, He was reading the sports in the Age, Inside was a picture of me. In his pocket was a Swiss Army Knife, He patted it affectionately, His eyes were bloodshot and his hands shook, He’d been on the drink for a week. The man got up and walked to the door, He missed the doorhandle a few times, Then just kicked it open, Muttering about stupid Japanese production lines. He took off his fake beard, Wiping his nose on his sleeve, He sensed he wasn’t welcome, It was time to leave. The lamp in the hall rang a bell in his mind, Sights and smells of a forgotten place, A person who was very dear to him, Was gone like a smile on his face. He walked along the technicolour road, His host turned to watch him go, She sat on the step and her eyelid was twitching, A tear trickled down a face he couldn’t show. A Siamese dragon jumped out on the road, Turning its rainbow hues red, It roared and the flames tangoed over low scrub, The man fainted and lay there as if dead. The sunlight glinted off majestic scales, In shades of copper and lead, But the butterfly of confusion hovered near, And the dragon swiftly bit off its own head. The man woke up in a very strange land, And his eyes were sorry to say, The colours he knew, brown, yellow and blue, Were replaced by a monotonous grey. The dullness hit him like a sledgehammer, The green grass was so different from home, With its violet grass and blood-red sky, He sighed and set out all alone. But not quite alone for he had just one drink, Left in the bottle he held at his side, He prised the lid off with his Swiss Army Knife, And let the drug take his brain for a ride. He staggered along toward the distant lights, Confused about what he had seen, A grey stallion rearing beneath a grey moon, Above grass that was silvery-green. The grey dreary hues rang a bell in his mind, This cracked bell had tolled not long before, The lamp in the hallway he’d got from the tip, As a boy before he’d found the door. An unknown mother and a violent father, This man by the damned had been blessed, He snarled and tossed away his trusty bottle, Here he didn’t need alcohol to be depressed. But the stars shining down on him were familiar ones, And he knew that he’d finally come home.