Great Big Star

I'm David Niven but I can't say who you are. You're the mystery light shining from a great big star. I'm a top gun actor but I've gone and lost my lines. You're the only script writer I'd entrust with my life story. I'm dabbling in moustaches, drowning in pink gin. You're looking cool in Errol Flynn's swimming pool. I've got a yacht. You've got a lot more than that. I'm toying with the idea of learning Esperanto. You speak a language I'm just beginning to realise is poetry. I got a cramp last night, in my right leg. You skip and you can dance on your hands. I'm up and I'm down then I'm somewhere in the middle. You're lava. I'm about to say something silly. You're listening. I'm listening. You're about to say something lovely. I'm right here. You ride your bike through springtime streets. I listen to the radio. You could burn CDs with your smile. I'm compiling a mix tape for our dizzy reunion. You stole feelings from the moon. I wish I owned a telescope. You laugh. I'm seriously delirious. You do not own a tiara. I dust off my wrinkled dinner jacket. You recall, of course, the night we heard Frank Sinatra singing to the sea and to the moon. I remember it well. You drank champagne as if it was starjuice. I ate an entire champagne glass, stem and all. You said something about holding onto everything. I translated that as meaning me. You may have meant something else. I like whirlwind romances. You saved the evening from drowning. My middle name is pink gin. Your name rhymes with many words, including love. I'm David Niven, looking up at the Hollywood skies. Our children search for a great big star whose twinkle reminds them of your eyes.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I, um, think I love you...
3/23/2006 09:57:00 am
David Prater said…
*blush*

"Why, Mr Bullock, I never - !"

[drinks shot, lights pipe]

"Hooplehead!"
3/23/2006 10:55:00 am
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Before ... and ... after!

Image
I got my haircut just before leaving Australia on July 1 and, until last week, hadn't had it cut since. Okay, so it's only been four months but as you can hopefully see from the image above it was developing nicely into a Steve Winwood style, with a touch of bogan at the back. Normally I keep it pretty short however and the major question was whether I would be able to stop myself from getting it cut before returning to Australia, presumably looking a little more like Tom Hanks in Castaway . I needn't have troubled myself worrying about it. Last Thursday night I got a call from an American friend named Sean, with whom I share quite a few musical tastes, and with whom I had some great conversations that night in the suitably-named Ho Bar in Hongdae, including one where we assigned 1970s bands to colours of the rainbow. Six shots of tequila, five beers and two gin and tonics later, I asked him whether he had a pair of clippers. Answering in the affirmative, he led me ba...
Read more

Tram Recovery Vehicle

Last night I was walking along Queens Parade when along came an old green tram. I think it was of the kind that they refer to nowadays as "W-Class": like the City Circle trams, only green. The tram was going very slowly, heading along Queens Parade towards Westgarth. I began to worry for the tram, due to the huge hill just the other side of the Westgarth shops. I could just picture the tram chugging all the way to the top, only to slide back down again. Then I saw a truck coming along behind the tram. Unlike the tram, the truck was all white. On its side was painted in black letters: "TRAM RECOVERY VEHICLE". My first instinct was to ask why the truck was behind the tram instead of in front, pulling it up the hill. Then I saw the huge bulldozer style front bullbar on the truck and understood: the TRV's job was to push , as well as (presumably) "catch" the tram should it lose its brakes. Kind of like a parent pushing a child on a swing. Well, not rea...
Read more