In Sydney -07/10/2013

.

From an old friend I bump into 

outside a vegan ink tattooist 

that I end up chewing over 

poetry's poverty with

here on King Street

for half an hour

to the kid 

missing both legs
and an arm,

in a wheelchair
getting off the train 

unaided
at Redfern station,

to the endless and space-less
parked car streets
detouring you into miles
of hyper-privileged 

unfriendliness,

to my friend's broom closet

cum backyard
and it's procrastinating

work in progress
sitting planks between
modern art and permaculture,

to one way traffic 

that always catches you

looking the wrong way,

that skyline of Christmas jewelry infernal

that smiles at your provincialism
that makes short stories long
that makes you want to stay
that hole you want to fill
that makes less sense than a love letter

to a one night stand
that naive need for a final epic poem

that hugs this impossible place
that can't emerge because this muse
that won't sit still for your story

that is not supposed to end

this strange big-city hospitality
flying in the grumpy face of anyone
who wants to talk about rat races
and urban isolationism

this big-titted town is to me
what yellow-sun is to Superman

feeling recharge in my cells
flat out of Melbourne
rise above the clouds
for less than an hour
and I'm back

in Sydney.

__________________

-Peace.

.