wipe that sound


the afternoon fizzles out

in a tiny trail of upward smoke

work problem unsolved

everybody else has gone

so i head home, too

stopping by brunswick st

in the hope of finding reading

or listening material

two bookshops later

i emtpy-handed wait

at the edge of a side street

as a bright pink

Mary Kay-branded car

turns off the main road

but she slows down

giving me quite a


as she passes

and i wonder

what i did wrong


when i pop out

of polyester

with a mark e smith


firmly in my pocket

the tram’s moments away

from leaving at the lights

my mind leaps

“it’s raining! hurry!”

but then

the invisible hand

on my shoulder

“it’s friday afternoon

what’s the hurry?”

and it rolls away

but there’s a lot of traffic

so i head north

momentarily purposefully

figuring maybe i’ll catch it

at the next stop

and if not

then maybe i’ll just stand

and watch the rain awhile.