after Bill Manhire
My turn with the binoculars.

The Honeyeater flies straight into the sliding-glass-door.
My brother. My yellow t-shirt. His.

My sister’s curly red hair, same as mine. 
My somersault into the nasturtiums.

My best friend. Wendy. 
My hands squeezing margarine.

My pumpkin left on the plate.
My sniff-of-chlorine swimmers.

My not-right bike. My ugly, comforting bedspread. 
My discovery under the house.

My daydream about the wallpaper in the bathroom. 
My lunchbox smell. My lost cardigan.

My hot head. My idea. My vomit. 
My short walk to school. My milko. My postie.

My favourite tv show. My other favourite tv show. 
My voice on the tape recorder. My itchy scab.

Shops. The beach. The Chinese Restaurant. The radio.