On the platform where the bitumen dips and pedestrian yellow prickles undulate little puddles widen as their source places expanding circles on the shiny surfaces.
On one side of the carriage the windows are crisscrossed
with little sprays while on the other side the windows are speckled with
droplets of light and grey, joining and flowing downwards under their combined
weight and the speed of the train.
The concert ovations went all night when he emerged from
his dreams of long coats and umbrellas anywhere in the world tonight to the
warmth of the dark undeniable first world of his enduring habitation.
Overnight the roof sound was steady and this morning
already the creek has risen to the grass, breaking banks and collecting more
from the skies as it swirls brown toward inevitability.
Wipers in the blaze of white water push clear to serve
clarity and every contour directs abundance across the camber and into Hoddle
Street storm drains in sprays of hurry.
The slates of Collingwood turn black in the day and
warehouse peaks and corrugations and solar panels of Richmond and terracotta
tiles of Jolimont and tarmac tops of CBD glisten and whiten and flood.
Little streams down the tram grooves and against window
settings and along the centres of leaves in canopy downward are cleaning up
their act, the miles of gutters and downpipes, the birds will be happy.
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