Alphington (April)

Sunset graffiti. Ruins of paper mill stand asbestos-raftered in gradered emptiness. Earplugs walk. Eucalypts elongate. A truck on a heap. Hire gear strews the dust sites. “Luxury assured”. Trackwork floodlit into midnight. Computer graphic overlay requires trenches. Ancient basalt rubble ‘unearthed’. City so convenient. Everyone home again as ghosts test the side lanes. Hardhats and orangewear. April they manufacture the new metropolis. An appointment with future streets yet unlaid. Barriers sprout weeds. Weeds flowerets. Sunrise vacancies. Bottle shop lowest prices ever. Your health! Roads closed. Makeshift golden detour signage. Bridges under construction. Taxis bully. Buses idle. The river’s half asleep.

Alphington (April)

Fog this morning. Old tin warehouses, above grassy drop to Darebin Creek, are shrouded like an engraving. Wind meters keep the weather in check, spinning clicking down today. Cotoneaster dark red amidst dark green. Their long streets of verandahed houses elm-shaded, paid historians and school councillors powerwalk footpaths. Dayworkers in beanies and scarves, their plastic and pearls, wait for the train. Broken crust river gums slide into lowered cloud. April fog dampens rooftops, cartops. The Paper Mill is falling down, falling down. Dan Murphy stands sober as a judge. Golf course is no longer lonely. Heidelberg Road is fairly heavy.