Saturday, May 22, 2010

Welcome to the Shopping Trolley of Life!

Early on in my poetic radio ramblings, when I was writing for a 6.30am Saturday brekky audience (indeed!), I introduced an adventure with a shopping trolley to listeners. This was significant for a couple of key reasons: It glorified an object of daily life greatly taken for granted and it rejuvenated the spirit of creativity in gift giving. But most importantly, it documented, unequivocally, the fact that whilst a shopping trolley was indeed once stolen, it was also, most lovingly, returned to the supermarket from whence it came. And thus, we begin. Hop on board your shopping trolley and come for the ride!

True Love, Socks and Shopping Trolleys

‘Twas a dark and stinky night as hot as things can get in summer,
the Christmas tinsel glittering just making me feel glummer,
with PMT and sweaty thighs like you would not believe,
I dragged my sorry self out on that bloated Christmas Eve.

A camel primed for desert expedition, I arrived.
The party was a’swinging, but I could not have survived.
I thought I’d say my hellos and then nick off right back home,
my duty done, the tv on, the choccy icecream zone.

Across the crowded room I scanned for faces from afar,
but then I thought, Oh, bugger that! and headed for the bar.
One ‘G ‘n T’ for woe is me and suddenly I spied
the socks to launch a thousand hearts - I thought that I had died!

He stood, his back towards me, with a white t-shirt and vest,
a drink in hand and chatting to some mates, but I confess,
the thing which told me instantly that I had found The One
was that he was a god with purple socks with sandals on.

That night he took me rollerblading down along the beach
and when the Christmas morning sun came right within our reach
we parted, lovesick, heading home, our socks now really smelly
and as for little woe is me, well, I’d just turned to jelly.

I made a big announcement to my parents in a flurry,
‘Mum, Dad, I’ve met the man that one day I am going to marry.’
My mum she laughed (I saw it coming) like a mother hen.
My Dad he simply rolled his eyes and said one word, ‘Again?’

But this time it was different, I just knew it in my bones -
we both loved purple and we shared the same strong pheromones.
He’d bring me flowers from his neighbours’ yards, oh what romance,
and when we went to nightclubs in his purple socks he’d dance.

I had my wisdom teeth out and he stayed right by my bed
and when I woke the morning next he’d left a note which read,
‘Dear nurse I would like chops for breakfast’, isn’t that so sweet?
Despite the fact my face was blown up and I couldn’t eat.

Then came the day of Valentines, and love, I was in heaven.
He had something in store for me, he’d come by around seven.
I couldn’t eat my dinner and I bit my nails right down.
I dressed up with my strappy shoes and favourite purple gown.

Seven came and quickly went, then eight and nine passed by,
at ten I had the jitters and I soon began to cry.
How dare he say he’d come around then crush my heart like this!
I planned my ‘You’re sOOO dumped’ tirade and sealed it with a kiss.

The neighbourhood was dreaming when charging up the street
his rally car screeched to a stop and woke us all from sleep.
I dragged myself out to the car, my speech fired up to go
and he stood there, just beaming, like there’s something I should know.

From his Galant’s small boot a large, white sheet billowed up high.
It stuck out, hiding something jutting up towards the sky.
My heart just melted as he said, ‘I’ve got a present for you’
and ushered me towards it with the words, ‘I just adore you.’

What on earth it was I did not know and he just grinned.
‘I’m sorry I’m so late’ he said, ‘I’ve sort of, well, I’ve sinned.
‘I’ve brought you something that you’ve always wanted for you room
from which to hang your scarves and things,’ and I felt my heart swoon.

‘My goodness, oh you haven’t!’ I sang out and grabbed the sheet.
I pulled it off the car and shrieked aloud, ‘Oh holy BEEP!’
‘Yes, my love,’ he laughed, ‘Oh will you please excuse my folly
and accept, with all my love, your very own… shopping trolley.’

I gazed into his eyes lovesick and looked upon his smile
and knew that with this craziness we’d live our love in style
I peered down to his feet and thought, if our love hits the rocks,
I’ll just remind myself that he wears sandals with his socks.

…As the story goes I did not get to keep my present.
My Dad was horrified so back to Coles the trolley went.
But now when my dear husband makes me so mad that I’m hopping
he calms me down by taking me to the supermarket - shopping.

© Elise Batchelor 2010
Photo courtesy Jodi Elston

1 comment:

  1. I remember this day.. am so very, very proud of how far you have come and despite the bumps and hurdles, you have done it with grace, style and the odd face plant into humour.
    Love you Leesie,
    Margs xx


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