(in a michael slater moment)
 
dropped dropping into

a torment
my poetry alone will save the world
the breeze

speed of my delivery
quickly cannot believe seriously how
quickly i regain my pace and accuracy

i am still young my head is clear i have
beautiful hair and an attractive face …
the fucking perfect animal that i am

the perfect line
that i make in the mirror animal that
i am my perfect skin my fine hair

i am not yet indestructible but i am close
i will make a come back
cooking with gas

cooking with
gas the selectors will have no choice
in their face rock and roll putting it

right up there
in the blockhole
i can see already the fear in the batsmans

feet the horror in the toe of his bat
the willow is arcing
back on itself

sweating linseed oil like eyes
the landscape is full of terrified eyes
the batsman

is barely side-on
anymore but
facing me craig mcmillan i am shane

warne bowling to his bunnies
headlights
white lights

i am only an arm
brett whitelees bowler
snapping up

wickets like
destiny got us going faster than weve ever gone before
snapped up by blockholes

donnie darko i make
holes in time
mercury long revd lines kookaburra 156grams

kookaburra 156km/h
i will take
21 wickets in two games

i have eaten my weet-bix i
m still young