Published in Overland Issue 233 Summer 2018 · Uncategorized I knew her but could not be a boy Harry Reid i’m throwing it off in a big way & no-one notices. i’ve seen it cause a fuss & now that’s the only way to do it. she thinks i’m lying because i’m wearing jeans but she’s never seen me on the weekend. (in my dreams i’m a jockey & no-one recognises me under all that silk) all my friends see a salmon & say ‘same’. we drive down to lake’s entrance & take our clothes off, it’s very stressful. if i had to buy a swimsuit i think i would die. i’m thinking about the drugs, it seems as though that’s what you have to do. she’s raising money to go all the way & my stomach gnaws at me it’s a feeling like jealousy but less useful. i tell a big secret to everyone i meet & usually they forget right away. this makes poetry difficult among other things. a boy i like has a girlfriend & this is difficult too. (today i gave my two weeks & tomorrow i will buy a horse) there are doors everywhere the only problem is that most of them are locked. when it’s warm again i will spend a little money but for now the rain settles in over the bowls club & i watch the races. Image: Damien Roué / flickr Read the rest of Overland 233 If you enjoyed this poem, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four outstanding issues for a year Harry Reid Harry Reid is a poet based in Melbourne. They are a co-director of Sick Leave, and the author of the best way to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend (Puncher & Wattmann, 2021). More by Harry Reid › 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 […]