Southbank, Melbourne.

The glittery lights drag me in

Brush my hair, tie my shoes.

My mother is displeased,

I can see the pucker in her lips,

But lemon always has that effect.

The dusty vehicle doesn’t take me far,

Of course, where’s the next servo?

Is the authority sufficient?

Will the interrogations stop?

Find my voice, grab my microphone.

Because today’s the day I show them up.

Maybe not. Stand down.

The plane’s roar is a welcome theme song,

Trumpting far and wide over the ocean of my soliloquy.

Thanks, I tell you, because if it wasn’t for you,

My love would be disintegrated, my body discarded.

It wasn’t a setback. It never was.

Only growth. Like the blazing flowers whose heads shine bright.

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