The Fifth Dimension
Did anyone ever go to Girvan in the seventies? Does anyone remember a sort of fairground attraction on the seafront? It was called the Fifth Dimension. It looked great.
The Fifth Dimension
Was always shut.
I asked my Dad what dimensions were.
“Well, there`s length,” he said, “And height and width.”
“That`s only three,” I said, “What`s the fifth?”
“The fifth would be something far out,” he said.
“They`ll be meaning something far out.”
“Can we go?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
But it was always shut.
Even on bank holidays.
I rattled its half-moon magenta doors.
I longed to crawl, hurtle, get propelled
Through its puce buboes, conveyed, pell-melled
Down perspex conduits, pimpled funnels,
Cocooned in cuboid bulbous tunnels,
Coloured at random in slime, blood and custard
Near the boats on the front at Girvan clustered
With trippers in rain-mates eating pieces,
Bereft of hippies in Afghan fleeces
Who might be expected to pay some attention
To a ride as far out as The Fifth Dimension.
Which was always shut.
It would be seventy-two
When acid trip culture made it as far as Girvan.
Which is as far as it is possible to go without
Any concomitant far-ing out.
I ached for its innards, to be borne on flumes,
Bejasusly scared, smoothed in its wombs,
Prised, loosened, all-helled, rocked,
Left inside and overnight locked.
Could you see music there? Bathe in smells?
Read your own mind? Could you tube your own bells?
I longed to feel it physically
Like boys want superpowers.
The price was written beside the door.
Time is dimension number four
But there weren`t any hours.
The Fifth Dimension was always shut.
I don`t know if the locals objected.
It was twelve and a half pee to get in.
Maybe it was all too much for Girvan.
Trawler men dried nets on it eventually,
Once it was clear that nobody cared.
I never saw it open yet,
Not til the disillusioned day
They rammed it with a JCB
And skipped the bits away.
Aged sixteen, scoring dope
In the gents at His Nibs I got lifted
And cocooned in the cells at Cranstonhill
With the beaters and bashers the drunks and the flashers.
I had to sleep on the floor.
Unimpressed with this new dimension
I called it a day at four.
I gave all my albums to the boy next door -
Floyd, Hawkwind, Yes, Them, Led Zep
I`d already been working on Stairway to Heaven.
In the end I just took the first step.
But,
For this lesson I need not have left Girvan
The Fifth Dimension was always shut.
