she gave me lip
and when I gave her lip back
she gave me
breakfast
bacon and eggs
(the oysters of the suburbs
((out of statement
into light
weeds grow
over his defence)) )
*
... as you drive out
West Swan Road
you'll see flowers stall
and strawberries ripen
*
the bored boy
shuffles the word cards
on the floor
and rolls himself
up in the rug ...
this is poetry,
I tell them
the kid's got it right
*
the prettiest girl
in the tightest jeans
gets my attention
'form and content'
I tell them, not
content at all
myself
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