Reflections on Melbourne

Melbourne in late winter. A peaceful grey afternoon. The moon blinks through light cloud.

The Metro men in their navy coats walking like mechanical mountains along a shiny platform scattered with discarded passengers.

Everyday I creep up to the wave of blue tarp, careful not to wake him, and drop my plastic parcel of food.

There is a moment as the sun sets when the glass towers are ablaze, lit like matches. Then the wind blows them out and from a distance the city becomes quiet piles of charcoal.

Fitzroy. In the morning there is a couch by the dumpster. By the afternoon someone is sleeping on it.

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