Who'd have thought
there was a trainline
across the road
in the old federation house
but there it was where
the woodshed once was.
Jemina had spent
all morning bemoaning
the lack of friends to
see her ride her train
around and around
while Father watched on
nursing little brother.
Neighbour, little more
than a stranger, I
played the role of friend for
six times around the old woodshed (longer
than some affairs of the past) while
the ex-bikie next door
drank himself into a corner
and the wealthy health professionals
on the otherside kept their doors, windows
and mouths locked. You know
a child has to have an audience
to be a train driver, although I once
won a Grand Prix alone in our backyard
against Stirling Moss
and Juan Fangio. Driving's
a lonesome pursuit like poetry, but there
when you're in the pits it's crowded.
See ya, Jem, I'll get off this stop
before I drop.
(Just a bit of crap to join in ...)
Andrew
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