Carpark (December)

December parks its machine all day where crumpled banksia cones parallel stranded kelp. The surfboards arrive on chunky vehicles. Occupants change into wetsuits on warm roadway. Chinese in Brits vans sail past the line-up. A butterfly bobs across. Families in sensible cottons and cabbage hats find ti-tree shade for their town car. Campervans in mock-hippie obey parking restrictions. Surf haze and cicada phrases drift over the sunglass set, looking for lunch. Workmen down from fire-affected areas park where “that’s good enough.” Picnickers unpack the boot, slap on, but the heat may be unkind. By evening they’ll all be someplace else.

Carpark (May)

Down here at eye level twentieth century’s Braque hatchings end. Sunrise enlightens grease slicks and loiterers’ solo slop Klee lettering. Sketch plans incorporate carparks between parks and Mondrian polychrome buildings. Hard squares, bold crosses, long lines for miles mock Malevich. Guston guzzlers maraud the territory anxious intent for vacant spaces. Midday is stop and start May Sales golden as Gascoigne. Vehicles’ drifts and detours delineate Steinberg permanent parallel swerves, forever. Layers of blinkers and door-mirrors queue towards Rauschenberg exit ramps. Nightfall clouds the lines between Pollock frenzy and Rothko melancholy. Midnight carparks borrow moonlight edgings, metallic scratches in Tàpies etchings.