train   jerk-sailing

through fairy meadow

woonona bulli thirroul

scraping and scrubbing

mind just clearing the tracks
how it feels again to crash

through slow barriers of minutes

afternoon towns

of the stale, crushed

public family
loud puppytalk

breaking glass in the carriage

ferrying me back to an afterlife

in my childhood room

after two broken marriages

with my mother and the ghost of my father
a gnarly old couple who've stuck together

faces clamped

finish their meat and bread and butter

from brown bags across the aisle

and fall asleep

the sea greysailing by the windows
looks like they've died

in a crumpled heap

parachute  collapsed

in her corner of wall

he sitting straight with closed eyes

his open dark oval  mouthway

to the dead
small metal scrapings

of CD leaking earphones

frizzled edges of the massive gloss

of sonic movies filling each head

beside other panes of glass

we ride like dolls