Nightcliff Dreaming.

Heaven and stars coalesce

Ancient voices calling him

Among the mangroves

Where his woman waits

For the box of wine

He stalks over bitumen

Gathering for his clan

Spotlights from the mall

Sweeping like prison warnings

Signs on doors: No Shoes - No Service

He enters anyway, coins jangling

Instantly cold, white man death

Get the wine, get out

At the counter hassle

"Can't you read, mate?"

"No shoes, No service."

"Cum on brus, that's bullshit."

"I aint got no shoes brus"

"Then no service, mate"

"Come on, brus, I need this for my old lady"

"Listen, fuck off or I call the police."

His feet back on a hard scarred world

Beyond the bleached blonde

Beach view apartments

Slutted together in the

Sweaty folds of developers' greed

His land no longer his own

Used to be good fishing ground

Now good lonely box ground

For white fellas dreaming

Their lonely white fella dreams

© shaun patrick green 2015