Dragons

I was across the Atlantic, hunting fantasies,
Wasn’t making a killing but enough to live and breathe.
When I landed my first bill, you were the first caller,
asking, “Baba, how many beers can you buy with fifty-five dollars?”
See, you’d say a pot of gold should be shared like laughter,
There’s no point in being alone while you’re chasing what you’re after.
You’re only as old as the close friends you can count
Little did I know that I’d be a year younger now.

Back then the season was closed, I left skunked and disturbed,
Back home to you but it’s not what I’d preferred
You could smell it on my clothes but you said not a word,
Except to have me sit beside you in the seat you reserved.
There we were, after your evening prayers,
in the bar, toasting, arguing over the nine o’clock affairs.
The slanging on the television was muffling the roars
that you probably heard but my ears were all yours.

You never mentioned that dragon was advancing.
Had I known, I would’ve flown in earlier and started glassing;
I’d have bought a shotgun, brought Sage back, and cast him,
I’d have scorched the earth just to prevent this collapsing.

But that dragon was upon us.
You asked me to take charge.
We had the battle plans drawn,
The verandahs became ramparts.

You were defiant in its face,
Going about your routine,
Taking your daily walk,
and your afternoon tea.

That dragon lay siege.
Our house was well equipped.
You were fighting strong.
Then came the fifth columnists.

They slithered out the brickwork,
Poured toxins in your ear,
They opened wide the front door,
And steered me clear.

I begged and I pled, tried to make you see reason,
Even did my best to be nice to the heathens.
Yet, I hadn’t the strength or the wit to get even:
A lack of intelligence must amount to high treason!

So I exiled myself, blood boiling,
Not wanting our home to become a house of destroying,
Blood fighting blood, recoiled, didn’t want a part
‘Cause I could see it in your eyes that it was tearing at your heart.
I abandoned my station, hoping the firing would cease,
Packed up my things, my rancour, my peace,
Held fort a hundred miles to the south-east
Tried to have faith in your gods, but all I got was a priest

Still went to war for you, entreated our allies,
But that dragon and its army had seized our supplies.
The walls were breached. You were laid up in bed.
You grasped my hand, cried, apologised,
But I was the one who left!

We spent our last moments in the room that you gave me.
This time it was my turn to recite the poem with which you raised me.
That dragon swept in as our cheeks were wet.
Your last words were “Baba, don’t you get caught in its breath.”

I held you one last time, when dawn broke over our home,
If I held you longer, maybe you’d still be writing letters to my phone.
But that dragon’s wings beat. A tilt in the atmosphere.
And I’ll forever have your howls of pain ringing in my ears.

I watched as those traitors mourned the slain
And they watched as I wailed over your remains.

That dragon slept.
That dragon crept.
That dragon leapt.
That dragon wrecked.
That dragon’s death is coming!

Forgive my vengeance, I am still but young;
But I declared the season open. I went and bought a shotgun.
Maturity is the difference between gutshot and broadside;
Well, I don’t give a fuck as long as my bullet strikes hide.
We’ll go out on a cool day, my beagle on the scent,
Wherever that dragon lays, I will be its torment.
I hope I’m no slob. I hope I do not flinch.
That dragon may be tight-lipped
But I will hunt it till it sinks.

I will sleep in spike camps for as long as it takes,
I will creep through the undergrowth, feed on rabbits and snakes,
I will leap at the greeting calls and smother its breath,
I will wreak havoc on that dragon,
I am become death.