posted on November 21, 2009 at 7:42 am

long line of traffic stretches to the beach
on the tiny tinny radio : i live for the sun
surf boards blond hair sun shine
the hamburger joints
the fishnchip places
the seaside bungalows
fans revolving on bedroom ceilings
in the mirror the sunburn comes on
palm trees pine trees
cicadas start up
the sandy soil throws up a thousand flowers
cars are parked on the nature strip outside the party
the windows to the apt are open
the breeze animates the wispy curtains
the market opens up in late afternoon in the square
people walk along smoking cigarettes
people buy milkshakes and thickshakes
people play euchre in motel rooms on the outskirts
my friend kim has a briefcase with 250,000 in it
we take in all eras simultaneously
grant mclennan sips his long island iced tea in the bar
frank sinatra in the tiki bar organizing some broads
p j proby splits his pants and his heart breaks apart
summer comes on stronger and faster than you wanted
the sun finally goes down on surfside six six six
you lived in a beach shack with an air hostess who was flighty
you painted the bathroom black
there were clouds in the sky as new years eve sulked in the wings
man we really took some wild drugs but who can remember…?
we took a ride in a open top mg to get some more, remember…?
you said gimme the money and wait here
you said you cant come in wait here
outside on the street
the back of my neck feeling hot n gritty
luxuriating in the exhausted fans
i hid amongst the thirsty ferns n elephant ears
after hours you reappear almost collapsing
he didnt have anything
i feel the line tighten suddenly
i had seen all this before
somewhere the future hauls me in hooked
finally we show up at a beach party
i go to get a blanket n get lost in the murmuring dunes
under a coal black sky i hear the laughter from the whales out at sea
i hear the singing fish
i see the flying eels shadowed against the incoherent moon
australian summer is absolute
the night is blacker
blacker than any northern hemisphere blackness
the water is cold
the sand is rough
seabirds lie dead in grotesque positions looking like pterodactyls
the star of bethlehem has arisen in the christmas sky
the sun seekers crack open a cold beer
the summer swallows englishmen n germans whole
the sprinklers come on
my one thousand dads with their one thousand names
watering their plants eternally
just like richard ploog in surfers paradise
where its eternally 1981
and hes trying on a paisley shirt
from a mountain of paisley shirts he just bought
and in the background the ever present pet sounds
summers eternal soundtrack if you can ever get back there to 1981
you probably cant
i tried a few times
but its pretty hard
even before that in the seventies australian summers burn out n fade
age wearies youth into the ground
fibro shacks make way for weekenders make way for apts with a/c n pool
the chicks get pregnant n go to work in woolworths
the guys get tattoos and restraining orders against them
the guy in the bottleshops seen it all
no id no booze he says n winks at me
i slip under some pools surface where its bluer than blue
i climb out my eyes stinging from chlorine
my mums on her banana chair next to the pool
her white english flesh with the sudden suntanned limbs
i’m back in my old bedroom again
i choose every positive aspect of myself and chuck it all together
dad films me playing my bass guitar to no one
i borrow the car keys n jet off into the summer night
we hit a thousand new years eve parties
effortlessly breaking through n back out into the summer night intact
i drink rum n cola from a tin
i bought 2 tins to last me all new years eve
the drink tastes vaguely like xmas pudding
theres a queue at the toilet
so the boys piss under the trees in the darkness
they stand their having philosophical conversations as they piss
or advice to each other on various girls at the party
or discuss the latest record by the who
and the sky goes all orange n grey for a little while
and everything gets still
and its…..

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