by Emily Stewart
I guess the luminous excuses made
a master out of me. I comprised the
grasslands and the river, the car
wash and the utility services bill
— always the lectern stood
though I refused to speak or
couldn't? That strange breach was
broached by a warm acquaintance,
not involving campfire but yes,
intimate, yes, during a late chill
of hours. It's commendable to
sign up each day, but better
to maintain a patina of disobedient
actions, shoplifting or whatever. So
we concluded. The vibe of Canberra
is OK. The lake water slops in
one direction, which you must have
thought impossible. This means
an easy air governs despite the unease
and no one really bothers the potoroos.
A series of underground passages bring
the kink. That's a true rumour. Gimme.
There at the vault is where I mouth off.