Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet,
performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal
about town, feminist, freewheeler, and
friend. One day, she is going to be an
ideas curator. Which basically
means, she will tell you
exactly what she thinks.
Until then, you’ll have
to read between
the lines.
Nothing new for this street, this city
There’s a man yelling outside my house
While sirens punctuate the night
A crime is happening a fire is spending someone is dying never forget
Still he is yelling quite plaintively
Not the usual shit
Yelling almost in love:
“Why don’t you come back?”
I think to have sometimes known what he means
But more likely I would be loudly protesting
“Were you really here at all?”
A crime is happening a fire is spending someone is dying never forget
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