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Poetry

Christmas Eve

21 May 2018

We always order the same pizzas
from the store down the road:
one Hawaiian and three Veggie Supremes
(heavy on the artichokes)
pile into the car and drive
up the small ugly hill
near my parents’ house.

My dad likes to boast that Mount Cooper is
the tallest mountain in metropolitan Melbourne.
Mount Cooper is also a bald grassy mound
a water silo, an electric fence
and a terrible view of the Western suburbs.

It’s always cold and too windy
up on the mountain.
We’re five adults now
and don’t fit on the picnic blanket.

The dog loves it!
She finds bottles full of human urine
or a half-full coke can
and tears off over the horizon only to return
sticky and licking her stained lips.

We huddle close and chew
with our mouths open
watching the sunset.


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