HEADING WEST

In the hinterland of life

west of the coast

by 25km of traffic

dense as dust we must

confront the size

of the problem.

Since I arrived

thirty year ago

my brown shoes

have lost their shine

and their soles worn -

singular or plural, urban,

ethnic, aged or rural,

alcohol-obliviated,

club-dominated,

fast-food saturated,

Diet Coke burpurated:

is it any wonder?

Much has changed

but map 241, F13 still marks

the Mt Druitt of my soul,

suburbs built without amenities:

instead, misunderstandings,

sensitivities offended,

little attention to child care,

concrete poured and walls built

in haste against imaginary winds:

letters posted from here

and there give clues,

random roads and rusted gates:

public transport is still bad.