tales from an ordinary world

2000-02-24

In the afternoon heat, the passengers on the tram seem to be wilting. I wander listlessly around Second Spin in Balaclava, knowing I can't afford anything for the foreseeable future. When I get back on the tram, some kid with a spraycan tags the wall next to his seat, then triumphantly hops off at the next stop. An old woman talks loudly at her husband in Yiddish, or Russian, or something. Thankfully they soon get off, leaving me to my blissful dejected silence.

I miss you like an old train. My disorientation grows with every heartbeat. What am I doing ? What am I fucking doing ? There'll be better times than these, but the journey toward them seems so full of insurmountable things. Just what is that I need to do, anyway ?

On a warm sunny evening in Melbourne Town, nobody wants to hear you scream.

Take me home.