calendar cathedral

Busy doesn’t suit the blue eyes

that miss the open sea.

Her hair’s been tied in a ponytail so tight,

she might rip open at the seams.

She lets the shower run,

lets it wash off in streams

and pokes around for bits of her in the drain.

It seems dinner and booze

sit at the table with the working blues

and the conversation’s drowning

 in the bags under her eyes.

And in the disguise

she fears she might not find herself again.

Again and again,

that is the drill.

So fucking shrill in the morning

with the alarm

that goes

‘here it goes,

here it goes’

Here it goes again.

from house to chapel

Adrian picked me up on Saturday morning for some quality icy wind and car conversation time. We drove 2 1/2 hours out of Melbourne past burnt trees and windsteady horses to a caved in house and a little chapel a bit further up.

Though I nearly froze my behind off to begin with, after a good set of bouncing through the rubble and bricks I'd almost forgotten it was the middle of winter.

A glass of wine in a ghost town bar later and I was mixing boiled lollies with jumbled words on our way back home.