The still-loved spheres

of those who’ve fled

the quarantined unsought except 

perhaps on a six monthly Sunday

reaching elder neglect yet without 

cane or walking frame

the brimming bouquet

of social surrounds

now stems keeled over

flowers browned from

thirst and flame

a vacancy of bloom

the familiar touch on the shoulder

in a country of long drought

the indifferent joy

that comfort and doing ok chardonnay

a familiar bitterness of young wine.

A city where distances are elongated

because of LCD and plasma screens

and marriages founded on crisis.

The height of belonging being

the ready citizenship of narkiness

and the fury of drunken auteurs

holding imprimatur and even bruxing in their dreams

birthright the dog-shivers releasing voltage.

It’s a contagion of decades and dross,

uprooting and scorching the garden

on Addison Rd renos

a very large number of grass blades

differing to differ – the agonism of yardbird impersonators

triumphing in the universality of shit as ultimate

and a quiet good chuckle

lest the flung polyglot of the outside

picks apart the premiere position

of us who are old enough

for the monotheism of highways

A million has six zeros

A google has a million zeros

A googleplex has a googleworth of zeros

it’s not that hard for anyone

who remembers the good nights

and sleeping through black outs

Loss was the right thing to happen

and loving the face

but fearful of the soundtrack

of documentaries that stood

on their own. Sophomoric is the 

fear and the best I’ve done today

green words and the odd tomato

the swept steps wept on

by people who deserved peace

a pantomime of smashed crockery

years after the wedding

the stammering breath of children

waiting for the placidity of lakes

the treaty of embraces

invitations to play with cousins

to hear the seldom voiced

the patterns of zoological park signage

crossing the water to Patonga.

The language of lungs

the respiration of towers

and a visitation through doorframes

owned by those who are known.

No flyby hellos from St Damien required

just you and your nose.

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One response to “Saudade in Sydney”

  1.  Avatar
    Anonymous

    I lied doing it OK chardonay

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