We’ll be living on top of each other

in an outer suburb. It’ll be

an evening backyard barbecue

turned lounge party, old friends changing

discs in the house we’ll never own.

You won’t be in bed – staying up later

than us now, as you do.

When someone puts on ‘Yoshimi’,

you’ll roll your eyes at the middle-aged

Gen-X’ers dancing. Mum and I

’ll gravitate towards each other and you

’ll try not to watch us larking about,

no longer two solid organisms. Later,

with Mum’s head resting in that crook

of my collarbone I didn’t know existed

till she came along, and then you,

I’ll wonder what percentage of

everything I owe to the Flaming Lips.

Image: Record / Andy Baxley

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