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Sport 12: Autumn 1994

Private Eyes

Private Eyes

1
The black bug shines. We hear this
on good authority: ‘A shiny black bug
with a pink head’ is crawling slowly
on a desk top. The desk is old,
also scarred. Soon the bug will walk
off the top of the desk falling
to the linoleum which is old,
also scarred, something we have to guess.
It lies on its back and waves frail legs,
for a minute or two it then plays dead,
but heave-ho! it’s over and makes for
what will be a far corner of the room.
John Dalmas watches the bug having
at present nothing much else to do.

2
‘A shiny black bug with a pink head
and pink spots on it’ crawls slowly across
the top of a desk. This desk is polished.
The bug wobbles like ‘an old woman
carrying too many parcels’. The first bug
was like ‘an old lady with too many’.
Legs of both are few, thin, and worn.
The legs are for waving feebly. Wave,
and play dead. Then wave again, heave
over, now make for some far corner.
Nobody cares. The bug moves
towards nothing, goes nowhere, observed
by Philip Marlowe, a good observer.
page 150 The bug’s got it wrong, sore feet perhaps?
Or, a fall, tries two corners and a third.
It looks ‘disconsolate’. Marlowe picks him—
him?—up. Farewell, my lovely old
woman or old lady-like, this is man
to man stuff. Marlowe takes the bug
in his hanky, he rides the elevator down
eighteen floors, out of City Rall,
some steps, some flower beds, puts the bug
‘carefully behind a bush’. Marlowe,
a white knight, so much more going for him
solves problems which bug other people.

3
Forgive me, having my own problems.
A tea tree jack, that’s my present case.
He (if a him) is set to fall again
off few, thin, likely worn out legs.
He has been set up right. Been taken
outside. Returns. Falls, is good at
playing dead. Not much else to do.