Mickael Crane’s ‘A 1974 Brisbane kind of day’

From Urban & Landscape/Ordinary Lives

The air traffic controller stood at the window,
as the planes landed lazily on the Tullamarine tarmac.
He took a Nicorette lozenge to quell the urge to smoke
as the afternoon sun shone on the fuselages.
He took a moment to reflect on his past,
remembering cane toads in the back yard
and a headless, plucked chicken hanging on the
clothesline.

He could smell the sponge cake his mother baked
as the young boys played British Bulldog in the park,
while overhead a swarm of flying foxes darkened the
sky.

Schoolchildren carried bags of crackers and skyrockets
telling their friends of their trip to the ‘Ekka,’
where they ate French fries made from Tasmanian
potatoes

and how Wally Lewis gave them a free showbag,
as they petted the lambs and the calves in their pens.

He remembered the parents at the sport carnival
congratulating their children even if they ran last
and the teacher reciting the Ancient Mariner,

as the students let their imaginations carry them away,
and each child was stranded on a floating ship
waiting for the ragged souls to be saved. He
remembered

some of the names of the girls in his class: Renee
Fisher,

Robyn Wells, Patricia Campbell and Brenda Franklin,
and how they danced happily at the Maypole flag.
He can see himself still holding hands with Kim
Andrews,

as they ate fairy floss and Dagwood Dogs at the
Ipswich show.

The phone rings and he is told the Sydney to
Melbourne flight

will be delayed and he marks that down in his log
book.

It’s the kind of day when the future isn’t important
anymore,
as he floats on the cloud of a pleasant daydream.