Old songs, hanging out with other people’s pets.
Solved problems, stolen groceries.
Not being on the internet
alone again at 2am.
Dancing until you break the heel off your
favourite boots, until you break into sweat;
until no one else is left
on the dance floor beside you
except for you, and you, and you, daggy music
and the light of the 4am full moon.
Warm afternoon bike rides beside friends
winding through suburbs between
group-house, dirty-dish in sink, dens.
People in Pyjamas still at 5pm.
People gentle with one another’s love;
giving and keeping gifts of collaboration
tangled in the sheets of other people’s ideas,
time, stories and beds.
Swimming out behind the waves
that roll and break on other swimmers’ heads;
lifting, your body away from the centre of the earth
up towards a belt of stars;
the milky-girth of the swirling
Sex followed by scrambled eggs.
The wicked grin that comes from drinking other people’s gin.
and all of the legs -
because it’s not your fault for noticing that
everyone is just so good looking.
A dance in the pasta isle at the supermarket,
not caring if there’s anyone that’s going to stare,
while your housemates
grab the eggs, detergent, party cups and camembert
three isles up.
Open eyes and open irises
Open minds pulsing with idea viruses -
Curiosity catching on like an enquiry
Climbing on sculptures,
getting naked at the Carillion.
All your friends
swimming and splashing beside you
with the lake burley bends:
flashing cyclists and buses,
public servants and politicians
on the way home from work.
Being on the internet
alone again at 2am.
Old friends, new faces.
Back yard music and singing at the sky
to let it know that we don’t care
if we can’t get shelter from its rain,
We don’t care if it is going to pour down upon us
again and again and again,
and make us cold, because we have
hot drinks, dancing and whisky at home.
Smiling at strangers, hands in hands
and hands through hair.
Howling at the moon.
Howling at cars.
Howling at anything until
you’re left wondering what kind of
dog, or chimp or animal you are.
Falling asleep with the world spinning the feet
off the end of your bed.
Awaking to wonder about the adventures
As they slowly mosaic their way back into your
Waking to walk the mountain,
starting all over again,
with its sunrises and sunsets.