the big house she wants
on the edge of a cliff
overlooking an opal mine –
noodlers in red vests waving
with mustard-seed sized hands –
is already built – already occupied
by her and a man six inches
taller than me, a multilingual master
of circular saws and pairing knives –
their four perfect children too –
sure she’s the only one
ever to make me utter
an indefinable oh my god
but what is the point of her
buying me another pint
when I live so far away
from all that, and miners don’t
take kindly to long-haired men
with rings in their moisturised noses?
the beer is poured already
and I have cursed again
for the agony she incites,
resolved to demolish her house
and murder her husband
before this grim night ends.
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