ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

ADULTS ONLY


They've just opened a shop in town, and folks got pretty angry there.
Not sure what caused the upset - it’s 'Adults only' they declare.
I asked my Mum if I could go there on the day I turned eighteen,
I've tried to look through the window but all was barred and nothing seen.
I've watched the people come and go, whilst sitting outside on my bike,
some young, some old and some I know – though looking sneaky nothing like
they do when I deliver papers to their homes every Sunday
when usually they smile and wave but now I don't get a G'day.

I wonder what is in this shop for Adults only? It's not fair
that kids are not allowed inside. Do they do something bad in there?
What do they sell? I'm at a loss – I reckon their things must be small
for when the people come outside they don't seem to have much at all.
Just paper bags with books and things perhaps also a video
but nothing big like chairs and stuff or groceries – well I don't know.
It seems to me a mystery, perhaps something that will be solved
one day when I can go inside – when I’m eighteen years old.

It's funny when I think of it – for shopping doesn't interest me
but just the fact that I cannot have entry there would seem to be
enough to make it interesting, and cause great curiosity
within my mind; and makes me ride here on my bike purely to see
who comes and goes, perhaps with luck I might just see through the door
the secrets that are held inside and what people are shopping for.
Being an Adult isn't fun – I am quite bored just sitting round -
I think I'll go and play with Mike or go down to the footy ground.

Mike's Dad was out for just a bit and so we went up to his room,
'cause Mike had something to show me that had him giggling like a loon.
'You mustn't tell – not anyone, for Dad would kill me if he knowed
I found this really silly thing in the back of his wardrobe.
He's never been one for silly time wasting and sissy games.
He likes his fishing and a beer, and calling footy refs rude names.
I've only ever seen Dad playing Footy, Cricket and Lawn Bowls
so why do you reckon that he's gone and bought himself a blow up doll?'



Maureen Clifford ©

I find it hard to believe that an Ipswich boy big enough to deliver papers wouldn't know what to make of " the shop "

Your poem reminds me of the how, in our society there is this remarkable logic, where adult is used as a euphemism for lewd or salacious. Children apparently must be decorous, adults needn't be.

Love the poem but agree with Neville in relation to the use of the word adult. This word now usually means rude, lewd, silly, obscene and the sort of thing that real adults would shun!

Don't forget you blokes I live in the land of 'please explain'

Line three, verse two "I reckon their things must be small." I reckon so too Maureen.
Wazza