STUPID SONNET I

She paved an eight-lane highway

Over my trodden path to the sea,

Straightway to hell spans concrete gray

Speeding towards fire in a cold-sweat frenzy.

She stared me down on the train

With her million dilating eyes,

She stamped my hand “insane”,

Fed me five-dollar steak and fries.

The blues walked me to the pub one day,

The white-noise inside bleached everything clean

The barman said I couldn’t stay

My mug shot behind the bar read: this freak votes green.

To be in Sydney is to be out-of-place

Gaunt, depressed, devoid of grace.

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