1979
She was eighteen
a country girl, child of the wilderness
stagnating in the vapid blandness of suburbia
breathless, suffocating in rancid air
that hung as an unseen cloud of industrialized miasma…
… rooftop obscured rooftop, a sea of sharp corners
jostling for juxtaposition, with no room to breathe;
She walked in pseudo silence, rising in early morning grey
milkless coffee forgotten as she listens to the radio
… fall of Cambodian capital Phnom Penh
collapse of Pol Pot’s savage regime –
– and on with the weather, and
Earth, Wind and Fire’s latest
After the Love Has Gone;
Suburban streets doze as she greets the day
intercity train clattering past as humanity
scratches and yawns
tuning in to Sammy Sparrow and O’Callaghan
2UE breakfast show at its best…
… breakfast scents permeate the air
eggs and toast-
– but the suburban street is almost empty
a gentleman smoking by his gate
his dog, of indiscernible breeding
claims first place at a thin sad tree…
a jogger swings wide, arching around
a parked delivery van
as she makes her way to the train station;
Littered platform, windswept and barren
– a reveler left over from Sunday Night Sessions
sleeps it off on a shadowed bench…
… other early risers scattered along platform 1
waiting for the city train
entrenched in an everyday routine
there seemed no escaping…
… from somewhere comes the tinny sounds
of a transistor radio,
Shah leaves Iran after a year of turmoil
weather update
and, Electric Light Orchestra
Don’t Bring Me Down…
… too late, she thought
this suburban coffin has done that already;
The train clanks
through backyards and blue-collar sweatshops
past a hundred empty churches and a score of empty schools
micro-communities, suburbia and the mills they toil in
animations of living, encapsulated
beneath a dome of shiftless stale air…
… passing through industrialized mayhem with a rattle and clang
before hissing to a stop beneath the waking city-
– fluorescent lighting hums, blinking out a hidden message to
a boy with a guitar, playing for coins under a yellowed poster
extolling the benefits of milk to a child’s development;
Nexus of city platforms purging the flow of humanity
onto city streets… sudden daylight superimposed on
the blurred reality of rattling trains and underground tunnels…
She wore shades of purple violet blue
flowing layers in silks and hippie cheesecloth
her feet rang with bells at every step
hair flying like ribbons on a maypole –
– she knew she didn’t fit in here anymore than mundane ‘burbs
a flowing cloud of indigo streaming through business suits
and miniskirts… boutique owners on 7 inch heels
she passed them by as if they couldn’t see her
as if she couldn’t see them;
At the far end she stopped at a coffee vender
– large extra shot extra sweet
she strolled into the city park
patrolling for a bench beneath a tree…
… a church group sat by the water
bible debate in full swing
on the steps of the gazebo two lads
in animated discussion- a Mad Max religion was born;
1979
She was eighteen
child of the wilderness
looking for trees in animations of city shadows.
*
SharonleeGoodhand©
