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    STREET LESSONS

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    Between the faded font

    a kaleidoscope of colours

    mingle and blend

    on warm concrete.

    Plaster paste, mortar, glue

    street decoupage.

     

    Crouched low, she works her hand.

    The can rocks and hisses,

    its mist covers the faded red bricks.

    Toots! Sup?

    Alfresco art — a new tag line.

     

    On round windows,

    bird shit

    piled like termite mounds;

    her laneway, her canvas.

    Plastic bags float and dance;

    they rustle.

    Coffee cups, fallen leaves —

    The Viet Times, page twenty-five:

    Furniture going cheap.

     

    The Guerrilla fresco soars above.

    Her hands grapple the red brick.

    Barefooted, she reaches

    higher, higher — heaven beyond her fingertips.

     

    He follows behind.

    Not swimming; not flying.

    Floating

    upwards and over,

    like the plastic bags,

    the leaves, the coffee cups.

     

    Contributor
    Contributor
    Our content is a labour of love, crafted by dedicated volunteers who are passionate about the west. We encourage submissions from our community, particularly stories about your own experiences, family history, local issues, your suburb, community events, local history, human interest stories, food, the arts, and environmental matters. Below are articles created by community contributors. You can find their names in the bylines.

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