it is a warm Friday night

it is a warm Friday night

in September

and

I suspect a hoard of my friends are

unconsciously

hoping that by going out into the dismal bitumen

streets

of inner city Adelaide

amongst the amateur drunks

and ice fools

that somehow their routine suburban lives

will be transformed

into. . .

I used to live in this hope.

twenty years later I have learnt from experience

that it either ends with sex with a weird chic

or

a late night lonely taxi

and

pathetic bedroom wank;

the world never delivers.

(stay home, fill ya fridge with beer, dial a pizza).