Published in Overland Issue 231 Winter 2018 · Uncategorized Surfrider Justin Wolfers A line of eleven custom-plated BMWs followed by a Prius. A Four Pillars gin and tonic w/ cucumber followed by a macchiato A complimentary strawberry truffle There are dolphins on the bedspread, mounted on the walls, decalled on the bathroom mirror I take a walk along the golf course and find myself complicit with the sprinklers It starts raining pronouns I read Lispector’s Hour of the Star under the awning of the surf club. She says that soon it will be the season for strawberries! Yeah, but it’s always the season for strawberries in the global frozen fresh food economy I cross the road to check out the cemetery, but it lacks gravitas. I eat sunshine for breakfast followed by a hash brown Then I meet up w/ Dess and we walk along the shoreline arguing post-capitalist aesthetics I use my go-to metaphor of a table. Sure yours might be flatpacked but mine was handmade by a friend Jasper, whose architecture thesis is on the ground, is on trees instead of timber As he told me this, the ball he was kicking came on quickly bursting off the surface Dess and I reach the point and marvel at the rock shelf. It’s created a natural weir that makes me wish I’d brought my camera We look out around the bend, and from this distance, the coastline is eroding beautifully Image: crop of Hour of the Star cover Read the rest of Overland 231 If you enjoyed this poem, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four outstanding issues for a year Justin Wolfers Justin Wolfers is a Sydney-based writer, editor and researcher. He has published work in The Lifted Brow, Kill Your Darlings, Fireflies, Cordite, Seizure and Plumwood Mountain. He is a PhD candidate in contemporary fiction and poetics at Western Sydney University. More by Justin Wolfers › 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 15 May 2026 · Friday Fiction The structure Dominic Carew We made it to the park by eight. The winter sun was filtering through the far trees in a wan, lemon trickle, the thin clouds sheets of white. The cool sky a rubbed-at blue. The grass squelched beneath our feet and elsewhere, thinned from wear, the earth stretched grassless and muddy and, in some parts, released a thick mist. 8 May 202611 May 2026 · Nakata Brophy Prize The 2026 Nakata Brophy Prize for Young Indigenous Writers (Poetry) Editorial Team Please follow this link to enter the prize. Sponsored by Trinity College at the University of Melbourne and supporters, the Nakata Brophy Prize for Young Indigenous Writers, established in 2014 […]