In Wangaratta

You live in the shadow of Nick Cave,

Who ran away to London or Brazil or Berlin or America or wherever.
Wangaratta, where my parents live, is ugly,

And I can see why overseas might appeal to Cave;

Just as Melbourne did to the year 12 class who joined me in heading south.
The pangs of jealousy you feel upon hearing a friend of a friend is going overseas.
Wangaratta kids

(Proper Wangaratta kids)

Can’t afford to go overseas.

All of us worked after finishing school and now, at uni or TAFE (or not), live on what the Government allows us.
Nick Cave hints at a depth of character we rarely get to express.
In Wangaratta we were drunk and choked with cigarette smoke and limited ambitions.

In Melbourne we are much the same, but without our parents consent.
We can’t love Nick Cave, as much as we might like to.

Nick Cave escaped, inadvertently maybe, but he escaped.
Wangaratta has aunts, uncles and cousins.

Nick Cave makes me blush.