She saw my combover, her hourglass body - Milk

It was 12.53am in North Fitzroy. I was at the service station buying my dairy fix. You arrived out of nowhere and parked your little red Honda Civic beside me. You weren't expecting to see anyone out this late. I could tell by the old T-shirt and faded jeans you were wearing. I averted my gaze so you wouldn't be embarrassed. Were you?

You bounced over to the petrol pump and started filling your car. You tucked your brown hair behind your ear and looked over at me standing on the corner with my 4 Litres. I smiled and walked off. It was too late for idle conversation.

Revolver Girl #1

“Show me them”. Lift your shirt, high above you heard. Nipples, here we go… now the whole thing…

I took a hold of you from behind when you were standing at the bar; gin and tonic, from memory. When you turned your breath stung my face, too many caps I’m guessing. After all, it was Revolver, and eight in the morning. Little did I know that I’d be taking off your shirt in the backstreets of Northcote only hours later. Bright, broad daylight, casting evil shadows on my face as I begged for your pants to be removed. Any more will give me away, but I get the feeling that more than a handful of men have played this part on one of your Saturday nights. 

Smith St Girl

Cropped blonde hair, thin Vogue cigarette. The voice of a schoolgirl – one that hasn’t had its sinews broken, yet. A loopy, softly spoken “latte, please”. 

The notes you were taking from a book on Psychology blew to the ground by my feet, and as you stood straight I noticed the breasts that been sucked back into your chest by poor posture. When you left I noticed the torn piece of paper on your saucer, and I was sure the number wasn’t for me.

Bike Girl - Northside

Long limbed, red helmet, tassels on the handlebar. You flew by my window at incredible speed and stopped at a set of lights not far from my doorstep. I gave chase, I saw your cropped hair and yellow jumper closer. When I got back to my room I lit a cigarette, played the first three bars of ‘Blackbird’, the only three bars I know, and looked at the time. 4:45pm, Tuesday.

Next week I will stand out the front of my house from 4:30-5:30pm; I’ll be the flaming cherry hidden in the shadows. If you see me, stop and wave.

Five minutes

There is a five minute window

On waking

Where I find myself losing to the thought of you.

There is a five minute window

When I’m dancing

Where I’m excited by the thought of you.

There is a five minute window

When I’m waiting

That stops me from thinking of you.

 

I should wait more

And wake less

And never mention dancing again.