at one
my face crusting
at this low level
ear at the bitumen
cheek sear. braised as one
we hear molecules this arvo
oscillating asphalt bandits
curbed in koolbardie silence
reckon
was beer oclock
since seven
at two
in 40 plus sun
we are amber
limbless meat
at eight
we're cellular memories of breeze
a broadcast narrative baby
a generation one dreaming
in each others sweat
and our december skins
shed in brick, as zygotes
at three
shadows of an inflated pool
stolichnaya, some little pipes
jarrah/globulus leaves
like infant eyelash
ripples backlash
billions unleashed
here
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