Published in Overland Issue 247 Winter 2022 · Poetry Poetry | Hide and seek Sophia Walsh Sitting on a bench in Central Park, it’s a Friday afternoon in spring and I’m thinking thoughts in waves, like: just because she’s masc doesn’t mean she’ll top you and perhaps I’d be happier if I was eating a canelé. I come up with an idea for a poem about putting love (money) into things that love you back (not the bank), and I consider writing an essay about why drinking Coke every day gives you clear skin, or how nothing says I’m a lesbian like having a boyfriend, ordering a soy magic, or identifying as a gay man. The late day sun shines through the grove of American elms, komorebi, right onto me, and I recall seeing Eileen Myles earlier today in passing, power-walking along Saint Marks Place. I wonder how long it will take me to get to Kenka after this. Then I think about Chichi and how much I miss her: our Naarm Miscellania-rooftop romance, kissing a masseuse in jeans and kitten heels, dressing fancy in a Megsuperstarprincess kind of way. That night she told me that partying almost always makes sex redundant, and that moving to NYC to make it is over and instead, it’s all about moving to North Melbourne. Life is a single loop looping around. Amphetamines are everywhere. I wish Chichi was here with me. No I don’t. I wish I was a philosophy girl. No I don’t. I wish I was an art girl. No I don’t. Across the grove a baby starts crying. Freud says happiness is the maximisation of pleasure and the minimisation of pain. I want a smack and I want to smoke a Vogue. Sophia Walsh Sophia Walsh is a poet living in Naarm. Some of her work has appeared in Westerly, Cordite Poetry Review, No More Poetry’s No No No Mag, and elsewhere. More by Sophia Walsh › Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays First published in Overland Issue 228 3 November 20233 November 2023 · Poetry our neighbours poem Ender Başkan our neighbours face appears above the fence – hello. our neighbours have a chat with us. our neighbours learn our names. our neighbours become our friends. our neighbours landlord thinks the market is ripe. our neighbours are told to leave. our neighbours try to buy their house at an exorbitant price to keep their kids in the school zone. our neighbours are denied. First published in Overland Issue 228 25 October 202325 October 2023 · Poetry The inhabitants Elif Sezen I died today, among many others, my grandpa died too, and our neighbours, / my best friend, the one with braided hair yes, and our sweet sweet doctors, / our motherly nurses... We heard a blast, then a whoosh of some kind, / and all gone.