September
starts at first light. Yards of vast machinery, gougers to clear cliffs.
Thunder in navy clouds drifts east. Boulders levered from Kulin earth are big
as orange workmen. They size and joke: boom-boom! Brick rubble disappears in
lorries. Asphalt subsides. Spiders ply skywards, shadows decorate stone
exposures. Ramps and fences, makeshifts for permanent underground, mark
perimeters. How loud are concrete mixers? This time it’s elevators, disabled walkways,
more steps than Parliament. Magpies chorus. This could save minutes of valuable
stop-start. September finishes ahead of time. One more level crossing removed,
one more boom gate gone. Voiceovers treble. Graffiti resumes.
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