this isnt home & away you know
you’ll never be tammin sursok &
im not even sure who id cast as
you hate your waxed arrogance
but we havent turned into digits
yet have you noticed how a surf
clubs transformed by childhood
tuckshops free icees sunny boys
how a girls smiles erased by the
backdrop utterly fibro hopeless
underneath a dead banksia tree
holding eskimo bars gently like
a riot of teenage freckles milky
ways kiss & tells fad packets &
secret crushes will you plunge
down waterslides with me even
though the mats are torn foam
& the pools closing in about an
hour maybe after that we could
go down to the beach o-or watch
the tee tree stream trickle down
to join the waves observe the rip
or feel for pippies with our feet
ive got a bronze medallion now
i can swim with all my clothes on
just to prove it if thats not okay
ill understand it was only ever
a summer bay dream after all &
you cant do that on television
