I arrive early,
come back later.

When I arrive later,
a certain look.

Sitting and waiting
on the wooden seat.

Shaded by the Plain tree,
leg hair moves in the wind.

People watching;
odds and ends on election day.

A crow talks shit.
Maybe it’s a pissed off Cockatoo;
no, it’s a crow
perched on the sign Drinking Water.

Waiting and watching,
everything hurts from the hard seat.

Learning about people
and listening to random conversations.

The crow is a squeaky wheel;
the cloud cover dims the soft light.

The odd looks continue,
and my finger keeps touching the keys.

Saturday morning, in the madness
bursting with cars, and
a shit Council incapable of foresight.

On election day,
a day we should be grateful for,
I wonder about this two-faced place.

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