Published in Overland Issue 217 Summer 2014 · Uncategorized Xanadu Nathan Curnow after the film directed by Robert Greenwald, 1980 for the attractive people there is a wall to skate through it was a joke until somebody told it most of the town murals are dripping red – there is no talking sense to the ugly some try the Biblical Diet to get into shape or wear the breastplate of Saint Patrick some couples get married before they roll it is probably best if you are intoxicated makes no difference if you like the movie there are new spurts of red every day you won’t get through if you wear a helmet it is a watermelon explosion if you fail a place where so many of us dare to go might be the mural on the toilet block the love and the love and the echoes of where neon tubes blink ultra violet egged on by a fever that can’t be denied it is too late to unlock the secrets of fat the runway is lit and the bystanders waiting what commentators say about your face Nathan Curnow Nathan Curnow lives in Ballarat and is a past editor of Going Down Swinging. His latest poetry collection is RADAR. More by Nathan Curnow › 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 22 November 202422 November 2024 · Fiction A map of underneath Madeleine Rebbechi They had been tangled together like kelp from the age of fourteen: sunburned, electric Meg and her sidekick Ruth the dreamer, up to all manner of sinister things. So said their parents; so their teachers reported when the two girls were found down at the estuary during a school excursion, whispering to something scaly wriggling in the reeds. 21 November 202421 November 2024 · Fiction Whack-a-mole Sheila Ngọc Phạm We sit in silence a few more moments as there is no need to talk further; it is the right place to end. There is more I want to know but we had revisited enough of the horror for one day. As I stood up to thank Bác Dzũng for sharing his story, I wished I could tell him how I finally understood that Father’s prophecy would never be fulfilled.