I walk in This World.

Polythene bags wrapped about tree-stumps

along the flooded creek are wreaths

upon a poet's magnificent conceit

that this stream was Melbourne's Indus.

I put words into John Anderson's mouth:

“As I walk in this world ferals offer me

Lebanese flat-bread sandwiches.

They invite me to their cave.

I tell them to be careful around the Aboriginal

paintings & carvings. They're really

very nice especially when I agree

to dance with them to celebrate the full moon.

They say they're not Pagans.”
I walk in This World.

I look into the flooded creek.

I lose my balance momentarily

and hang onto the ledge.

From the station to the bridge

the footsteps of a woman I passed at the subway

echo at my heels.

I put words into her mouth:

“As I walk in this world a man staggers

on the bridge ahead of me

then hobbles even more slowly home.

I wonder if it's all a ruse?

But if he thinks he can jump me

he's made a big mistake.

I'm never without my capsicum spray.

I hope he knows how to pray.”
I walk in This World.

No one else around.

The alsatian from the first house at the top of the road

barks angrily once and then greets me.

I put words into her mouth:

“I thought you were another one.

The one whose death's already done.

But one who follows you doesn't know sun from moon

nor how to absorb moonlight like sunshine

as sometimes I see you doing

inside this eyefull that's hidden

behind the bars our master's raised

to protect us from the street's mindless shrug.”
I walk in This World

neither master nor minion

like a Johnny Onion Man wheeling his bike

around the suburb's streets

happier with the cold & rain since I understood

this is my one & only life.
The words in my mouth

are the truths breath winnows from devouring air.

They would sound like an unaccompanied fife

in the end-of-the-millennium's gale

or the tinniest notes of a penny-whistle

scattered like breadcrumbs for the squabbling pigeons

at midday on a crowded square.
I walk in This World

some might say carelessly

caring more & more about less & less.

Ceaselessly.