Such good mates

Geoff was a dope smoker.  He grew enough for himself and his friends.  He always had friends dropping by.  Mates.  Good mates.  Smoking mates.  Mates he could talk to about anything.  Knowledgeable.  Open-minded.  Radical.  And how they talked.  They did nothing else but bloody smoke dope and talk.  They solved all the world's problems but none of their own.

Possession was an imprisonable offence.  When the police cars swept in that fine morning, Geoff nearly shat himself.  They had guns.  They swaggered as they searched through everything - bank statements, letters, books, clothes, rubbish.  They found an innocent hand-drawn map and were sure it was where Geoff grew his plants.  It wasn't.  But they made him conduct a tour of the area anyhow.

They didn't find anything.  They missed the seeds hidden in the jar of lentils and the pot plants in the long grass.  Dogs would have found them.  But these were men ... men who had probably asked their wives to find their car keys for them that morning.

As their cars reversed off the grass onto the drive, a small plant that was growing from a carelessly dropped roach was exposed.  Geoff tried to look bland.  The police didn't see a thing and sped away with joyless looks on their faces.

They were drug squad from the city, accompanied by a local cop.  A long way to drive on the offchance.  A tip-off?  One of Geoff's mates who was on remand at the time on a pretty serious drug charge was let off without a custodial sentence.  It seemed like more than mere coincidence.  Had he sold out his mate to save his own neck?

But Geoff would never ask, never know.  But boys could talk about anything, couldn't they?  Well, no.

There seemed to be unwritten, unspoken rules when it came to their relationships.  You never said no to a joint, and you never criticised your mates or put them on the spot.

So Geoff avoided the topic.  He probably couldn't even admit his suspicions to himself.  That would expose the absence of a real connection and he didn't want to go there.  Things just continued as though nothing had happened.  Such good mates.

Boys are like that - not judgemental - tolerant - don't hold grudges.  Well, that's what they say.  I reckon they're just scared.

Scared of appearing uncool.  Scared of losing friends.  Scared of not being a man among men.  Scared of looking into that big empty chasm.  Scared, scared, scared.

There's a silence

between men

boys

the unspoken gaps

kept closed

by fear

while they talk

so freely

of other things

of science

technology

the latest discovery

in outer space

of risk taking

while close to home

the obvious

goes unnoticed

their big ideas

big things

big plans

certainty borrowed

from generations

of men

who went before them

passed down

from father

 to son

never questioned

just assuming they know

what it's all about

preaching uncertainty

for others

they think the universe

is looking at them

always at them

only them