The Weather Broadcast

1 June 2014

i could not look at you on the weather

when they panned across the nullarbor i kept my eyes on the floor til it swept up the gold coast

you reminded me too much of the boy


nevertheless you persisted. the third date i was cast into the iron-green crest of the state library you breathed me in a new ventricle, laneways unfurling. to university on a rusted bike and the trees framed with sudden clarity my passage to the horizon. you smelled right, old paperbacks in bookshops, lentils simmering, even my reflection glowed


i stopped dreaming of the boy.

there was no space on the couch for two, no salt on my tongue, no ghost of Lot’s wife gazing on the old city

 


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