gold = duck

in a land far far away
there is a fabled place called gold = duck
not maggot = baby fly
you wont find it doodling about the high street in Winchester
you wont find it power walking around the Darwin central
you wont find it gawking like a fool in Bologna
you wont find it dragging yourself by your lips in Santiago del Chile
you wont find it blah blah blah
look a little closer next time you exit the house in a hurry
don't dash down the stairs without stopping to look up
take 30 seconds once you open the car door to look to the left
instead of holding your toast with your spare hand, hold your gaze straight ahead
breathe, count your blessings... won't take too long
close your eyes
block out the noise
turn off the chatter
smell the gold
inhale the duck
what's it all about?
on the insides of your eyelids you will make out the faint outline of a duck
the slightest of golden tinges will demand your attention
you may brush it aside
like so many before you
but within a week your dreams will be punctuated by inexplicable images
a man, standing alone on a windswept beach
a goat, chewing on a saucepan
a chisel, chatting lightly with your great grandmother you never knew
an overwhelming sense of discomfort
the sense of travelling at great speed towards a dot on the floor
of someone elses kitchen
a chanting that makes sense
but not to you...
and the moment before your untimely demise....
GOLD WILL EQUAL DUCK