started with the car not starting, helms deep
being that great freeze of 2021 — powerless
as a tesla in lubbock texas, we lived off elbow
grease, canned peaches, and lean donkey meat
we scoured nicholson street honestly, meaning
hours squandered on foot or by sled dogs
in such moments, how glorious was the brevity
of whiskey sours to-go, like the sun shining
between blizzards, the irony of a mcflurry
the glory of maraschino cherries pairing
with anything, they’ll warm you like merino
socks or kerosene lamps in a snow drift shelter
walking home from subway we nearly froze
to death, even dale earnhardt himself in such ice
couldn’t keep it between the mayo & the mustard
the annals of the suburbs being the worst place
in the world to exhaust your stores of blubber
all around was nothing but curated chipboard
cryogenic yoga & vegan postpasti, no bunnings
in sight for miles, only the fata morgana
of another zinger stacker burger combo box
which we agreed, despite being on rations
of corned beef, danish feta, and parmigiana
at that point for nearly a fortnight & tensions
being understandably high, there was simply
no way to eat fried chicken surreptitiously
you just have to thank your patreon saints
for being alive at all, for more bovril hoosh
for the spongebob reruns on nickelodeon
for the winter of our sponsored content
for how in love we were with the antipodean
modus operandi, for not having to fall asleep
unsure if shamu was scheming to kill us or not
we cairned our route home with some prayer
flags salvaged from a 44-metre barquentine
i added a few winter vegetables to my footlong
sandwich and considered the ship of theseus,
how gentrification is essentially its own form
of white out conditions, clouds are essentially
the curtain between acts, our sharehouse
in thornbury was essentially the ross ice shelf
later on that sunday i was undeniably dead
set on some fat stacks of silver dollar flappies
for the homies, only to find the flour sack
freshly infested by pantry moths, no-one
knows how long they’d been sheltering there
in their cavalry twill and canvas trousers
it could’ve been months for all we know
i’m just going out and may be some time
i told them, but to everyone’s chagrin
first woolworths, then coles, then aldi each
as inexplicably flourless as the south pole
all i could say later, when i returned home
a hero, was that i would never sleep
on iga again — and though the adoubement
won’t fix the frostbite on my nipples
at least i can die with the confidence that
all the long suffering endured throughout
that great campaign was totally totally
totally not pointless