by WAYNE POLLARD
A flat sea absorbs my thoughts, its calmness almost from another time, what is being said, it is winter, the sun shines and the sea is flat, little ripples brush sand as disjointed clouds float waiting a wind to take them to the mountains.
The horizon awaits, never still. It defines the duality of urban thought, earn money to purchase relaxation, a home on land stolen then sold.
No sails glide across the sea, no freighters glide like ice skates on the horizon, seagulls sit calm on the beach, resting, native grasses lend space to plastic cups.
Discarded condoms tell of promises of something different, loneliness forgotten in embraces and thoughts of lustful connections.
Curly hair sits across a room as tired blue eyes listen to yesterday’s captured thoughts. Coffee feeds the angst of yesterday as it races through dreams hidden in shoe boxes yet to be opened.
The shadow sits like yesterday’s dust under a kitchen table, awaiting to be swept away but not acknowledged, not understood.
Sun beams dance across wood beams, textures of nature interact as feet shuffle through a door of unthought thoughts.
A red handbag swings from smiles glimpsed from moments of happiness.
– Seaford, Port Phillip Bay, Melbourne VIC