Born and bred
I was born and bred at Bondi
under the smell
of surging surf, sewage.
Scent of lonely Sundays
and trams hurtling to the
cluttered sea. Asphalt days.
Pools of summer shadows.
gullies, ferns, coral trees,
billycart corners. Tadpoles
changing shape
jumping away.
Growing up we took
tentative steps around
corners. Leapt across
rock pool worlds.
At 15 they took us away
to become drudges
of the city streets. The sea
a limp memory at lunchtime.
A sunset image
from hostile buses.