#iamgrateful for my friend

You are the needle to my thread
You are my greatest mystery
You are the voice inside my head
You are the co-author to my story.

You see me where I’m standing
You keep me on my feet
You hear me when I’m whispering
You narrate our lives in tweets

We dance like no ones watching
We sing to the highest note
We laugh until we’re crying
We wrote a book of silly quotes

I’m thankful that I met you
I’m thankful you’re my friend
I’ll never ever forget you
ours is a story, without an end.

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#NaPoWriMo Day TwentyThree – “Talking Brunswick Street”

Inspired by http://www.napowrimo.net prompt:  ‘New York School’ poems.  I don’t think it’s finished. But is a poem ever really finished…

 

It’s 8am on Tuesday and I am on the tram

you could say: it’s just Monday 2.0

so naturally I’m late and it’s raining – damn!

Is it sunny over there? I bet it is, laughing at me

I bet you’ve been doing a rain dance secretly.

It’s against the law to make it rain here, seriously!

Oh, I’m just crouched on the cold metal steps

looking out on a washed out Brunswick Street

it’s moving ever so slowly! Mmm… I can smell the coffee and crepes!

I can see Fitzroy-ans dancing through trams and cars

in a sea of boots, poncho’s and umbrellas

in a long narrow valley of cafes, shops and bars.

Lights are flickering in the old comic book store

Oh Marty, ‘Back to the Future’ is now

your movie is so old it predates Persy’s next door.

Posters and banners flapping in chilly wind

will we ever escape the daggy dolls we were yesterday

when fun was getting off our faces and succumbing to sins.

Don’t stop the music and oh, just dance

the numb blur of college life, I don’t remember

except when we dreamt of moving to the south of France.

But 2014, oh, a communication revolution

look at us talking wirelessly from either side of the world

Can you hear me? Wait, can you see me? Technological evolution.

Mr Asmiov hit the metaphorical nail on the head:

“humanity will go into hibernation” – indeed

it’s true what the 1960’s sci-fi guy predicted.

Speaking of, did you know it’s illegal to trade with pirates

here, so if we upload, download and freeload

aren’t we essentially criminals – just open-closet-pirates.

Think about it – I’ll peruse my books

while washed out Brunswick Street starts its day

in one of Melbourne’s much loved coffee nooks.

Friends

Friends

 

Summer storms through the silly season

And I am my own fashion treason.

Asleep in my hoodie and flip flops,

Cropped leggings and blue Whovian top.

At my desk the universe lights up

But a first thing first, where’s my Garfield cup?

On my phone is a little image

So my sleepy eyes start to scrimmage.

An old photo of a time and place

Where five girls are caught in an embrace.

They look up at me from yesterday

Far. Far, away from this port side bay.

Those were the days of Pimms and flowers,

Best friends, and summer showers.

Gone are those days of dancing till dawn,

Getting drunk, waking up on the lawn.

No we’re closer to the big 3-0

Alarm clocks and coffee run the show

Dancing along the trapeze of life

As friend, worker, mother, sister, wife…

The world has spun a few times or more

Since I was last knocking at your door

But no matter how far we all roam

That time, that place, will always be home.