Total Pageviews

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

These Climes, This Shore

Stuffed full
Of white privilege;
Brained by the Big Easy
And gorged on an ocean view

The great Aussie lifestyle
Humidifies, rotisseries ‘til your
Dermis is pork-crackling
Innards, a secret stew.

Pumped up
With insulation
To buffer the heat and spill
Of a bigger world.

Buoyant, you
Jog that petite arse off
On a freeway of
Earplugged mime artists.

This is everyday.
Your feet on the path
Where you left them,
Your mind set loose on a wave.

But the same remains;
The same abyss-mal fact always
Off a flat earth country
Of wide insouciant days
You will fall.

By choice and fate
You were shored up
And will be
Dumped by the sure.

No comments:

Post a Comment