Tyre pressures at 35psi & we’re screaming
Joe’s got that teargas cologne drenched on
like a bachelor, Michael’s rules for radio are
no drums, he gets mad, calling shotgun each
Stop. Michael never passes the air-con to us
he hates diverting the fan. The ideal temp.
for Michael is twenty-one degrees Celsius
& he’s happy, nobody likes Michael anymore.
Justin’s a rude social, doesn’t say much except
Shit every time it’s Red, he hates to be forced
into eye contact with other car passengers,
he thinks they judge him ― Michael does.
These streets are always the same, A dog
Another café, 40kph School Zone Police
Camera on the corner of Hale & York St.
Eye-in-the-Sky Bicycle down on Linfield Rd
going-South. Sam hates bike riders like cancer
he gets dirty every time they conquer lanes
& don’t wear fluorescent, he tends to fire up
wind down his window & go off like animals
(Michael hates the imbalance in temperature)
he can never finish, or cool down, he breathes
a lot after attacks.
Joe corrects his hair once the winds gone,
Michael asks where the child lock is? going sick
on Sam, while trying to reestablish the cabin.
There is a deep imbalance in beings. Joe tilts
his sunglasses at women like extraterrestrials,
Justin keeps fidgeting as the traffic packs up,
Sam’s breathing in & Michael can’t stand it.