Both Necessary and Dangerous.

I'm craving epic landscapes

and the truck that nearly hits me
on Brunswick St at midday
comes close enough

giving me a good dose of
danger
without any need for a detour
on my way home.

In this heat the roads
can be dangerous
brains
sweating inside us
any sense that exists
escaping through salty moisture

you're dangerous,
too,

in you
I see pebbles
disappearing off cliff faces
devoured by
swell

while white gulls
circle.

They too desire the shock
of cold water
diving down,
down
through hot hot air
to another element
both necessary
and dangerous.

It's epic,
that's for sure.

Fear of failure
only
keeps me circling

but desire of shocking cold
keeps me looking
for that
cutting
cooling

both necessary and dangerous.

The gulls cry out
mouths wide
wings outstretched

while arms keep close and tight
the secrets
that are both necessary
and dangerous
that neither naked flesh
nor late night breath
can reveal.

Beneath the intermittant street lights
I see only you
in duplicate

summonsed by the full moon
no longer blue

but bright
and white as a seagull
hovering,
waiting
to dive
down,
down,
down. 

This Time Of Year, Always

Climbing roses and bougainvillea
in full bloom
and the scent of jasmine
that gets stuck at the back of your throat

that's spring
in this city

all choked up with sweet smells
and pollen
and other things that make you rub you eyes

in disbelief

always
this time of year
in this city

always

always, as the summer skirts
begin to appear
revealing calves
and thighs
and the odd flash of undergarment

always
revealing things hidden
throughout winter

always
disbelief
and red raw eyes
rubbing away the irritation

though we're probably making it worse

by touching it at all

always
stripping off
stripping back

I remember that one spring
years ago
now
leaning up against the cool poles of the cafe
my favourite summer dress
me
newly exposed
all flowers in bloom
on the street,
on my favourite summer dress

still wide eyed in disbelief
at your proximity
that you'd been there all this time.

Always,
this time of year
that disbelief

I'll rub my eyes
one last time
inhale
the sweet irritating scents
of this time of year
in this city.

Perhaps I'll put on my favourite dress
and wander the streets
we both know so well

wide eyed in disbelief
that we exist
at all.