Sit in a backyard cement sea and drink a beer
think about how bad it is to drink beer
and all the other people I’ve seen drunk
the same thing and how bad it looked.
Why name a beer after a suburb?
Maybe it’s the toast of the town
though I’ve been to Carlton
and nobody drinks it there.
The cement sea can move without warning.
Possibly my surface is
cracked like the jagged tongues snaking
under my seat though.
Sea sits outside my window,
grinds with my teeth.
Land laid in the forty’s,
colonized shitty grass
mosaic concrete at the feet of the valley.
Valleys don’t stay still they turn
they mush rock and mud within
a water table I think.
So the sea turns too.
It rises and bubbles beneath
the concrete, punctuating each bubble
with a beat or crack in the surface
a fractured crescendo that
and though I feel it turn and see the cracks
maybe it all comes up from the bubbles in my