Rhapsody, by Amelia Walker

i go walking on a new spring morning of naked sunlight and changing breeze... and i am a new spring morning of naked sunlight and changing breeze...

...moving through outer-city backstreets... fancy white fences, discarded fits... i am the outer city backstreets... fancy, white, discarded... backstreets, fences, fits...

...i breathe cut grass and flowering jasmine... i am cut grass, flowering jasmine...

...make my way to the train station, sit cross legged on the dusty bitumen, read childish words scribbled on a weathered brick wall...

EVA 4 EVA

            SHERYL IS A HOE
                ...and i

am words, dust, childish, brick and bitumen, i am weathered, scribbled all over the wall...

...i watch the second hand chase its tail around my green plastic watch... i am the second hand, green, plastic, incessant tick tick tick...

...peak hour carriage, the heat of strange bodies, anonymous limbs, concoctions of sweat; i grab a hand hold, fall into the grooves of motion as the vehicle accelerates... and i am a dirty rumour on a crowded train carriage, i am peak hour, heat, strange bodies, anonymous concoctions, sweat; i am accelerating, falling, the groove, i am motion, churning, fire, the haze that hangs above...

...i watch a blind woman fumble to find a place; she has stains on her jumper and beautiful hair... and i am a blind fumble, hairy, a beautiful stain in an unfound place...

...blip blip, a small boy sends messages on his phone... muffled mix-mash of scattered i-pods... static... a pre-recorded voice: "attention passengers, the next station is..." and i am a small boy's messages, blip blip, scattered i-pods, a mix-mash muffle, i am static, am a pre-recorded voice: "attention passengers..." i am the next station...

...the city station: make my way through sticky crowds, thick scents of coffee and cigarettes mingling... i am the thick sticky crowd, caffeine, tobacco, eyes stretched, pulse racing, am the snap and hiss winks of lighters, espresso milk jugs gasping in outraged fizz, i am mingling...

... i walk past two teens sipping soft drinks, locking eyes -two girls, one pretty, the other beautiful, both covered in acne, oblivious to all else, one handing the other a plastic rose... and i am two girls, locking eyes, oblivious, i am a chewed straw, sticky with soft drink, i am acne, a plastic rose...

...exit the station, i am hit by the height of buildings, the blustering heat of cars... i am a tall, grey building, the acrid petrol reek, am concrete soaked with the heat of passing cars...

...i see a man perched on a balcony, peering down... and i am alone on a balcony, peering... down...

...shop windows bulge with promises and light... silent mannequins... everything marked down... i am a mannequin, marked down, silent, i am glass promises and neon light...

...a street vendor sells me a fat, furry peach, warm from sitting in the sun; i bury my teeth in soft flesh, feel the juice tickling sticky down my chin... i am a fat, furry peach, warm from sitting in the sun, i am sold, buried, soft flesh, i am juicy, split skin, bursting...

...front pages scream images of bomb blasts -the war on terror is heating up... i am an image of a bomb blast, all the bomb blasts, i am the war, i am the terror, i am heating up...

...a pregnant woman with greasy hair, short of breath, caves in to her five-year-old's tantrum and takes him to Macca's... i am a tantrum, a five year old, unborn, pregnant, mother, woman, am greasy hair and short of breath, i am caving in...

...the child stumbles, scrapes the skin off his knee... i stare at the red raw rash of myself inside out, the wind knocked out of me... i've forgotten to cry...

...there is blood on the bitumen... i am blood on the bitumen...

...i am... walking...

...in a street with no trees, one green leaf flutters to the ground...


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