One Mart used to be WINZ
men in orange hats worked day and night
while us lazy buggers slept
rearranging tired old
‘do this do that useless people’ walls
formerly belonged to forms.
I thought about the dole
I was ready to sell the Wii
my thoughts on urban genesis and P’s old gat.
Raoul behind the counter shook his head. It was too old.
Lim Chhour is D grade
you could never buy
firm apples strawberries
I go there and hate my single bag
in the hand floating garlic, kumara
freezer burn whatever, yellow noodles
nothing that will make me wiser
or draw men from the street.
I go there and wear my black ray-bans
ghost down a plastic aisle
bumping into versions of old friends
they are well, another someone moved to Melbourne.
every shop guy lied
on Queen by Myers
led me blind
gold coin internet
Nobody had anything