The Loop

The Loop

often I wish I could just hold all the good parts in both hands

North Melbourne

North Melbourne station
is in West Melbourne

I lived across
the road with my sister
but she’s moving to Canberra

so now I’m balancing
two bags on a suitcase

with cacti-like plastic sculptures
one side, buildings on the other

and the train in three minutes
via the city loop


reception cut out

I want to say:

it’s nice to sit outside
and watch the chickens

making tea for everyone
and chatting between rooms

I want to say:

often I wish I could just
hold all the good parts in
both hands

I get hit by the
blue and yellow
I get stuck

I want to say:

you fucked up
when you taught me
conflict resolution

this is how you end up
ripped open and

for someone bright
and beautiful

to crawl into
the space of your
open ribs, thinking

it’s okay now
I can rest


they don’t need a reason
to evict you

how messed up is that?

– anyway

outside is a blur

tomorrow will be different

we should get the bond back
right? It’s like rushing
through a crowd

to the end of the platform
so I can roll my walker
over black rippled tire

just beat the train – but
then I realise

I’m at the wrong side


the only place to be
alone is in public


sadness is a rippling wet sheet

of orange


     and blue

glowing through the whole house

a steep escalator
down to heaven

or limbo more likely

dog barking
heaving sobs

I couldn’t imagine
letting my grief get that loud

but now

it’s coming out all over
bathroom stalls and
                           train walls

Southern Cross

now arriving we pause
for seven days

yellow flowers grey rubble purple faces
                                                                  just hit me please
it’s flat here the trees are deliberate
                                                      the ocean is far away

but where I’m living now
                                     there’s rainbow marker on the fridge

I don’t miss the ghost
of my dog

running up the stairs
and copies of News Weekly

I just want to go home to
driving the channel highway
with my friends

thumps on late night walks

I love those fucking wallabies
they’re eating up the garden
and shitting everywhere again

Flinders Street

I want to be alone
and not alone

put me in an empty carriage
and I’ll stare right out the

so hard
the train won’t move

I’ll ask you what are
healthy boundaries
and negotiable problems?

you’ll say – you let
your morals guide you
and I’ll always be impressed

I want to scream
I want the closeness
of dog-piles in the sun
without the wall-scratching
suffocation boundaries
are a kind of distance

is distance always

can I fall in love
with busy streets on all sides
fast food and fast people
sitting on the ground
until the train comes

loving with my ribs

lonely with