australia day
i woke too late to smother like butter in the sunshine, darkness is now only a whisper away at the peak of the planet. i’m a rotation too late anyway, beer has long been drunk and perhaps already thrown up on a balcony or beach somewhere, and lovers lay together in a drunken paralysed state united in the same bodily desire for their rest. gingerbeard and i are on our bed, he laying and i sitting. he’s seducing the strings of his newly purchased guitar, so in our bed with us sits bob dylan, john mayer, sometimes a long dead blues artist. but it’s not too crowded.
