Abandoned main drag shops
like diver & chest-stripped aquariums;
a weedy, graffiti-eaten playground longs
for children's theatrics/tricks/antics;
an obese man in prison green
mows a tangled yard holding up
a ripped Eureka Stockade flag.
Some dusty figure in Rolf specs
straight out of a Drysdale canvas
stares at me as if I'm a drifter/saviour;
either a larrikin or a simpleton
has painted a grinning white elephant
on the side of a rusted silver silo
crowned with sleepy feral pigeons.
A small girl in a red polka-dot dress
twirls in the gutter outside the main pub
(a veritable fortress in Barbie racing car pink),
where blokes with Blundstones & kidney stones
compare faded notes on stoicism/survival,
whilst clenching XXXX & Bundy cans
with fingers stained gold by canola.
LJ, October 9 2011.
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