Justin Street, Mangapapa

The edge of the world for us
seventies kids to fall off
into bike rides and roaming
long into the buttercupped
valley.  Our legs and lungs bust
by the falling down house with
yellowed newspapered walls and
empties growling on its floor.

We have to find out if the
hill behind this one looks like
the next one and if the creek
has more tadpoles at that end
and we can’t get lost because
we have pylons like humming
steel parents to follow back
to our Beasley house on the
corner with the police car
barking in the driveway and
cactus by the Para Pool.





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