stalking utopia

By | 3 December 2008

braking by the wide verandah a pall
of dust behind the ute dogs slouching
towards the driver waiting to be borne
aloft loaded on the tray no-one walks

to the shadow of the pub stalking utopia
a string quartet isaac stern on first
staring into the dado jackie on cello
brushing at flies with her beau (call him dan)

waiting in the parlour utopia this is
despite the dusty space that swallows sound
(a plucked string sends the pullets clucking
and scratching in the dirt laying eggs

for the king browns to swallow and the
taipans) inside the ladies lounges
the pianist (call him dan) displays his charm
muscular crescendo spent diminuendo

as the schubert swells in utopia and fades
if only the rain flooding down
the diamentina or the train
up from the big smoke perfection here

is all too dry (if musical) and lonely
despite the van its loaded dogs
disappearing up the road towards
the diggers' weekly shaft the golden

sunset as the quartet saws the evening
into dusk into dust settling
on strings and sounding board tomorrow
we paint the stump black pure black

back of utopia the camel lies down
with the dingo the potbellied children
(their thinness stalks) agog with the music
wanting nothing

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