Bateau-pia

At 16 boys have nothing but sex on the brain
And parents, and pimples and the odd growing pain,
Trying to talk to girls, while discovering who you are,
Working out what’s “cool”, and how the hell you drive a car.
And yet somehow right in the middle of it all
They decide to throw you life’s biggest curve ball.
What’s you plan for your life, how will you get paid?
And no porn star is not an option, you’ve never even been laid.

So a clan of young boys, no different to most,
Found a refuge from these questions, up on the coast.
A haven of sun, surf, sand and beach,
Where the trials of reality were just out of reach.
A place you could get away and dare to dream big,
Sneak a forbidden drink or two and maybe even a cig.

Where the local girls were all preggers and everyone ate corn,
And Beautiful Bounty was the number one porn.
Where they’d never seen an Asian, but the fish and chips flowed,
And men with shotguns protected the signs on the road.
They’d pack up the cars and away from the parents they’d sneak
Each bringing something to the adventure that was a little unique:

Ali could drink his quota and maybe even a couple more,
Chris will tell you he was the X-Box champ, though no one kept score
Long legged Andy could sleep on the most short-legged chair
Pete was the hottie, but was losing his hair.
Gardos could chase down the ladies in his big red car
Though all he ever caught was Stu’s new camera.
Chong could microwave bread, for over an hour,
While Mark held the keys and subsequently all the power.
Smitty wielding a cricket ball kept any batsman in check,
And when the king’s cup came out, T hit the deck.

Cricket was played for hours, on the beach and tv,
Thoughts were on anything but the HSC
Girls were discussed, again and again,
Table tennis tables were destroyed by the rain
But it was the ability to escape and keep the pressure eased
That was the secret to their success, and kept their parents pleased.

So post-school the trips continued, a chance to catch up with the guys
Talk some smack, drink some beers, but soon they began to realise,
This jaunt had to be a little shorter then the last
And a little bit different from those of the past
New faces appeared, while others were lost
Food and booze were no longer rationed because of the cost

But the injection of the girl had the biggest impact,
An unspoken sign of having to clean up your act
Taking over the kitchen, assuming they were performing a favour
But removing the thrill of the challenge and the volatility of flavour
What started as a test of each boy, and his culinary skill,
Became no more than fast-food, take your plate and your fill.

In fact the whole dynamic changed a lot over the years
Of course there’s still sand and surf and plenty of beers
But the talk is of settling down, joining the race
Not of impossible dreams and the legs that they’ll chase

Don’t be sad, its just different, still plenty of fun,
But it bares no resemblance to how it begun

No one killed it though, it was a victim of life
The monster the boys tried to escape is what wielded the knife
It came so quickly and subtly that they failed to see,
There was no refuge from reality, down by the sea.

It was not protected from time, just look around
At what has become of their old stomping ground.

The race track is a home for the old and unwell,
The mighty roar of the ocean is no more than a swell
One day soon even the old house will be gone
But there is a place in their hearts where it will always live on
Cause even though some will return, and some never again
It will forever be the house that turned these boys into men.

Written Nov 2008, after a weekend up the coast with the boys (and girls)