It is bound like an adolescent’s mouth by metal towers.
It sits on reclaimed land.
And don’t forget the crowds of black
As they stride the Friday lunch hours with eco-death
coffee cups and their round-moons of sushi.
The law school is on the left.
Wooden library building beautiful
With its twirls and trod-to-velvet-carpets.
Then there’s Old Government House,
Behind The Hive with its buzzes
and its whirs.
I was a skinny flower stemmed girl in teal.
I ran the corners of a square field
And rebelled in my non-regulation red raincoat.
To the books I learned of history and literature
Writing papers on Mansfield and her Doll’s House and
Grace with her tales of collecting pipi from the
Suck of sand.
And on my walks across The City to the Cuba Quarter;
(The place where I’ve always felt more at home
Amongst the tatts and
the vegan coffee shops)
I first crossed the streets with Kate the Revolutionary
Saying ‘Yes! Safe to Go’ her face noted
On green-lipped currency
While up the other end of town
there’s Carmen glowing red
as we in our quickly-changed-into-fake-Doc-boots and
denim-rhinestone-studded-minis step forward
across the painted lines of the streets.