in no way a peak

this low hour

of musical chairs

played in silence

in lunges

in envious stares

the sick cough

disgusted looks

plugged in stethoscopes


any beat of life

out the window

the best form

of non contact

the panic of tunnels

black mirrors they bring

gaze avert

with elevator attitude


traffic jam

they take to streets as tanks

battalions of kids and screams

thrash within armored ques

defence drawn in deep breaths

each world crawls together

in their own hurry

with their own anthems

sharing only tension

the president sits

at the wheel of wheels

turning a wrist

to accomodate climate

named after adventure

they don’t break a seal

bank others wishes

these latest arms that stop legs

of war

finger lickin chickin

he said

with drink for $10

didn’t need convincing

grabbed one

and he got my card

it beeped

all smiles and well wishes

he did good

i saw the $13.60

but i saw the desperation first

mucked tiles

white out prices

untouched salads

that’s why i said nothing

it’s the best chicken around

with chips

with gravy

i basked in salt

for the last time


when Pop got a new car

he used to drive down the main drag

to look at his reflection in the shop windows

look at that he’d say

his teeth false his smile true


one day I saw mine

there stood a child lost in a supermarket

wandering isles with wandering eyes

no longer searching for Mum

but for anyone that would look back


trolleys pass after horns

in different shapes of rage

steered from the front

pushed by laziness


there was a tear

that lost its footing

sliding down the cheek face

holding on until it had to let go


it slapped the ground in 2D

and I looked around for milk

beyond comprehension

here was a que

where everyone ticked pretend patience

as i pretend to read


a man joined the end

about 45 or something beyond comprehension

in front of him a lady frailed over shoulders


in silks and jewels

about 85 or something beyond comprehension

the man skipped her to ask one of his kind


have you ordered?

unsure if the process of lines

had changed from previous times


am i invisible? she spoke through old cords

and the man shrunk to his age

much older than hers

geelong locals

had to go down the street

to post my heart to another country

there he was again

this time in a bus shelter

hardly escaping the thirty seven degrees

face melted to the burn of sleeplessness

sleeves down carved frown


carry a backpack with me everywhere

books pens paper

everything needed to escape a day

he has a woolies trolley

(take that ya bastards)

rags and bags with flags

thinking he’d remember me from the day before

hey mate he stared at me as nothing


the next section is multiple choice:


do we call them junkies because

A) What goes in their arm?

B) What’s carried on wheels?

C) They see the real trash?


frost, not ice

she was beautiful still

it was just before the moment

where ice warps face


it had worked away

at her body

feasting on what was left


was loose jeans kids shirt flat curves

good morning she bubbled

and it was this sunday


he the later stages of vice

gripping movement manners intact

politely giving in to the rural battle


please wait for me darlin’

and she did this sunday

they had each other