By | 15 February 2023

1400 words give or sell / i opened a fruit stand
just to squeeze these blue cherries between the sunlight
& my splintered thumb. behind the fruit stand: bendigo or
something like it / catholics in tracksuits / dusty bookshops
tearful pergolas / real estate agents chatting to jane
on a night out
in ballarat & dodging the swollen footpaths at 2 am
we took the mild party back to the airbnb / that was
another night you weren’t around / you were closer
to yass & mild hills caressed by the tractors / lined up
like lovers in the 70s / before drones. next to babbling
creeks. tv was more straightforward then
sometimes you were on it
rattling up old anglican ladies like bags of plain
salt chips. i can imagine standing there too but i wasn’t
we were more watching it from a lecture theatre / unimelb 2009
how many hearts are seared on the grill. how many eyes
are closed in the heat. in newcastle
your white shirt catches
a coal tan & you decline the benevolent scholarship
the thing is we don’t understand institutions / they’re as
populated as buildings / just as susceptible to dry winds
wicked storms. i’m a pile of essays punctured with
wine marks & staples & you’re the
master of grills. later on
springsteen spends 21 mins
dancing with rosalita & we’re the nicest people there
no / just a bit high / just a small dream in the clouds crowding
ngannelong / just a little unfinished museum business in the
far-off drought-struck carpark / that’s an ancient creek bed
no wait it’s just a ditch & laugh at the blue jeans
falling over in the dark. on tuesday
djokovic’s camped out at fed square
clare land orders gyoza / johnno shane me & the
constabulary & you float neatly above the shaken-out
semi-tragic cult-status street / it’s called swanston
actually / called every parrot down to the
front pews / jimmy watson’s
to break nuts pizzas spritzers straws on the table cracking up
under the weight 14 laughs & 28 hands thumping it in a
sunny friday-night wind. we take some snaps
wild cars coarse by

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