Fruit machines accept all cards for very punter / there’s an addict doorframed, they punctuate the street / as in a Florence gallery when restorers airbrush out / aureole and child to foreground areolae puckered / for remedial teething, too pure or too stoned / for lewdness
Since everything old is always turning neo: g’day Peter (this is Alan, chum, / songwriter manqué, author of these stanzas)…future Oz icon from Fitzroy through to Freo,/ with bodytalk more pirouette than scrum
After church the drive, the singsong: Dad in tenor mode / winds the Vauxhall down Mount Dandenong Rd.; / lulled, Mum’s glad, these patterns still keep: / Janet reading, Carol pulling faces, Margie asleep.
