Poetry by George Anderson

I knew a bloke (once)

after robert creeley

 

& so I sd to my good mate Jim

(that’s not his real name)

cause we’re always scheming

thinking of ways to duplicate a buck

or just applying the polyfiller to life-

filling in the cracks before it all dissembles

anyways I sd to Jim

hey mate, how bout we buy a ute & piss off up to Cairns?

Jim, he shows me a paper bag-

there’s a gun inside

a .38 service revolver

I sd, where’d yr get that?

He sd, can’t tell u- but I’m gonna have to use it soon

There is an intensity in his eyes. The longneck overflowing his tall glass.

Can’t you pour a beer? I sd. Look at the bloody head on that!

I never saw the bloke again

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