.13 layers

so


the layers thing.


well,
actually,
before we start presuming
masks
disguises
personae
titanium skinned
onions, cake and parfait-

what is in mind
is rather
what lies beneath.


because surely that's what it's all about really.
none of this wrapping.



let us picture
a party.
a children's party. (quite different, huh?)

sitting
round in a circle
a game commences;
an old time favourite.

pass the parcel.


forget the music,
forget the lollipops after each go,

but focus on this:


one by one
each layer is removed.

sometimes there are many.
sometimes there are only a few.

this is no race.
speed isn't necessarily of the essence-
often part of the fun is in the unravellment of the gift.
intriguement.
excitement.
anticipation.

often
layers are different colours
patterns
designs
intricacies
delicacies.
the interest builds, it swells.

who knows what lies beneath?
the parcel's awkwidity and angularity
dellude,
they deceive,
and with time
astonish.
looks are deceptive.
the initial shape gives no clues.

as each is tackled,
it is analysed,
scrutinised,
the parcel turned upside down and shaken around and about.
a frantic search for the lines of sellotape that unlock a whole new seam to the story.

finally
the last
longest
ultimate covering
is stripped away.

i can see some yellow.
and some black.
some straight and some round and some long and thin.

a bright yellow toy dumper truck!
(it is my fantasy, after all).

free.

and,
oh boy,
it's a good one.
it's got a silver metallic dual exhaust and everything.


now all the mess is out the way
the wheels can spin
the bucket can tip
the horn can honk
and now
is here:
the time for play.

endless joyous hours await.
the construction of the greatest structures ever known to humankind
begetted on the lawn in grandma's backgarden.
it must stay with me forever.
i want it at school.
i want it at the dinner table.
i want it at night.
i never want to go anywhere without it.


play with the toy.
stretch it
investigate it
become
infatuated
in it's freedom.


but.
whatever you do.
don't go back for the layers.
leave them in the trash.

they're gone,
they are nothing,
absolutely
not
needed.
obsoleteness
homeless
worthless
useless
a distorted, twisted, shadow of the past, from a time when bewilderment reigned over entitlement and waiting still thronged the air.
screw them.

ignore them.
forget them.
incinerate them.
and then carefully tip the ashes into an air-tight container
and explode the bastards into oblivion.




please
please,

let the play continue.