Recorded: 4th of February, 2025

Location: Blairgowrie, Victoria

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Poem: JEFF.

Would you talk to me for the sandals on my feet,

or the two-paper cup, long black in hand?

Some time ago, we shared the same stories

ran the same trails,

for the same reasons.

Filling our shoes with sand, collecting heartbeats

noticing the birdcalls, and rolling legs – down dirt hills.

Did you talk to me because of the way I was sitting

Or was it a look in my eye, one that you know

long before, did you look at the world

the same was you saw me do

did you look at the world

the same way she looked at me across the table.

I'm learning the lessons

you learned so long ago,

and you'd do anything to

be learning them again or would you?

we talk about this at our dinner table.

I hope you continue to talk to me,

and the people at the wooden table

long black in hand, crossiants in three paper bags.

It's the very thing that makes me love the world

these interactions

do more work than gravity

they hold us together,

when everything wants to pull us apart. I'll tell those behind the counter

about my time on the trails.