Perth 2017

Melbourne
Heading out to the airport in the early morning light. The whole city, the suburban weatherboards to the steel and glass skyscrapers, bathed in rose. Gracias a la vida, desde mi corazon.
Landing
Ah, Perth. Seems it was always destined to be a complicated relationship, wasn't it.
Fremantle
I'll tell you what's cool. What's cool is two old men in a beaten, though not defeated, Hyundai hooning through the wide roads and avenues and highways of Fremantle, belting out Seven and Seven Is, Psychotic Reaction, I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night, Alone Again Or.
And laughing till they're hoarse.
Yeah.
That
Is
Really
Fucking
Cool.
Kewdale
The names: Abernathy, Arthur, Belmont, Oaks, Stockdale, Acton, Towers, Scott, Kew... All and always leading back to Knutsford Avenue.
The middle aged European couple over the back on Arthur Street, slouching about their summer soaked front yard in matching his and hers fake tiger skin underwear.
Hey! You the kid who's always taking our almonds?
I dunno, maybe.
Well don't.
And after that I'd have to keep watch from the window of the caravan parked around the back of the house in which I lived, to make sure they'd gone out before stealing any more if their bitter, nearly ripe
almonds.
And Tomato Lake defying all conventional wisdom by actually being a lot larger and more scum covered than ever it was when we played there as kids.
These strange and stupid shards that keep sticking out, still cutting deep.
Yeah, Perth.
Like I said before. It's complicated.
Leaving.
Another double decker, another magnificent view. Pete, Jeannie, Rache, Jay, kids, and Helen and Brett for good measure: I love you. Thank you for every countless ordinary miracle and for teaching me that if you can adult with a modicum of dignity and a heartful of courage, then one day I too might succeed.

Lay Down.

Today's portrait of the landscape.

You're out walking, driving. Sitting. Unfamiliar places or familiar but seen at last. Bus stops, train stations, the inevitable eatery.
It dawns on you that you're bleeding, diminished
yet you feel stronger than you can ever recall feeling. A new delirium.
Everyone around you. Everyone.
Everyone you see.
The swaddled newborn next to you looking unfocused in your direction, at the mother, at the others.
The care lines. The mottled hands. The pink hands. All colours. Everyone. All sexes and predilections and convictions. All proclivities. All of them.
Everyone.
For this little forever you are the least interesting thing to have existed. They are all so much more important and intriguing than you will ever be.
Everyone
else.
Smiling, laughing. The inaudible conversations. The too audible ones. They walk dogs. They push strollers. At least one happy, indeterminate creature they had on a leash had only three legs.
Crows feet. Gestures, sullen and wild. Serious eyes. Wetted lips and rising and falling throats. Skin rough and smooth, receding hairlines, loose skin and taut through times of abundance and otherwise. Unconscious scratching and unwarranted and nervous hahaing. All this and everything else besides.
Never mind that these are days of thin money. Never mind the decided lack of exuberance flowing over everything. Never mind the lousy weather.
Or the vagaries of life rising slowly up from within, or around the corner the phone calls filled with hobbling and heartbreaking news.
All the terrors and triumphs of your life have leached away because of every person you see until you are left
with nothing.
And slowly it dawns on the small part of you remaining, that you have pulled off history's greatest disappearance
yet again.

Fade into you.