Whimsy Therapy

I was having a bad time.

I say bad,
not because I’m a rubbish poet
(although I am)
but because when you’re really having
a bad time,
it’s easier to just say bad
than it is to explain whatever the chemical
slop inside your head
is manifesting as today.

I went for a run.

I say run,
really it was more of a jog
(OK a walk)
and the world had dialled up the whimsy,
(just for me?)
As if to say

Oh you think you’re a poet now?
Well here, spectate as this kookaburra
catches an absurdly lengthy worm.

Observe this bridge,
with engraved padlocks securing love to the rails.
Forever Venus,
Jack loves Debbie,
Paul and Tina.

Notice the calming rhythmic resonance
of the cars rumbling above you
on the Jindalee bridge.

Watch this nameless, perfect family waving sparklers
(sparklers!)
in their front yard.

Observe the elderly man
emerge from the river
Like an ageing, Asian merman.

Comic relief so timely it feels choreographed,
But a sign that maybe
whomever is pulling the strings
is compassionate.