Out and About
Hand in hand my daughter & I move around the sleepy Australian roar of her first rally. She's quiet, busy eyes/ that student over there on all fours shirtless gold like a day warming up. The polite men in marshall vests move as fingers brushing through this hairy head. A pulse of drums, the breath comes in as the crowd shifts & the ligaments of banners join muscle to bone.... We are a lumpy, lazy beast in the streets. Green left, resistance akubra & nike joined for the first time by a daughter teasing out the way of waves & wars - the teeth of ideas for good or otherwise. Speeches go on like the wrinkle of fast flowing water - words an accompaniment to sunshine & city park fountain. Then like galahs the flock rises to the beat Racism OUT. Cars fly past with waving or complaints. The lovers in front are whispering - her voice rises above the crowd for 4 words & when I'm naked.... Ears are busy as they always are but we are all naked here functionally -subsumed to the idea - a mix of mechanical & thrill that naked always is. Then like a goose I'm crying, grateful for the shades. & Melina, 12 years old & just out of reach of everything - but she's standing venerable & vital as any grey haranguer on that stage. It's the best truths, those rendered down. A rainbow demolition of a bad something & the children win an early Spring.