- if so, here’s my effort to persuade my wife to forsake Seattle
and return to the pleasures of Melbourne…
she is unpersuaded…Max
Ponyfish Island
Meet me on Ponyfish Island tonight,
dearest. Though converging on it
from all directions are city
workers intent on making whoopee,
you and I can sip our drink slowly,
and eavesdrop, tut-tutting quietly
about the younger generations
in their narcissistic permutations.
Upstream the Yarra looks so civil -
ignore the sports stadias’ many-headed evil.
Downstream - maybe a glorious sunset
redeems the commercial mindset.
If a cloudburst is forecast, dear,
we prudently won’t meet there.
A flooding surge of water down the Yarra
once submerged Ponyfish and its bar.
We’ll smile benignly as we leave
at the padlocks on the bridge rails.
Copied from Paris, I believe.
As if love padlocked never fails.
Ours needs no hardware symbol.
But meeting you mid-river on a ramble
feels right to me, except that we’re
never apart, always set out together.
Let’s walk there now, to Ponyfish Island,
and pause there in the heart of our homeland.
Or take a tram if you prefer, streetcar
of homely fulfilled desire.
http://ponyfish.com.au
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