pink notes

1

touch this end of the sun, a glance on fern shaped

weeds beside roadway bends, fuchsia tops sprout

from gravel, clay dust and the highway's sealed grey

bloom turns rainbow blurs of light, i camera,

these engines moving faster than dark

2

barefoot in Cygnet, wait in the car, keep the window

down so the smoke drifts out, "why do i talk so loud"

says one as they laugh, on the footpath, beautiful

cheeks flushed, it's so un avant garde this art,

wears beanies and scarves and youth