Great Southern Line

Imagine this.
fourteen blocks from home.
another week at the boutique over.
hair in a mess.
dumped by partner on Tuesday for a cross dressing showoff.
left car at home for enviromental slash health reasons.
no invitations.
friday 6.30.
bored.

The red man flashes and beeps in sequence.
across the road a train station looms like a used up Scottish castle,
exept it's bang in the middle of Sydney.
the air is always thick at central station.
central station.
i've always thought it was an ugly place.
i'll tell you one thing though ...
it stands on what was an old graveyard
for the early white marauders.
no disrespect to those resting bones may I add

I'll catch the train from the 2425 platform.
where have all the punks gone?
remember how they used to line the elevators
in all their red and green and pins
I do a terrific mohawk if I do say so myself,
a menacing mohwie is the best mowhie.
but I suppose it depends on whose head its on.
i stare at some girls beanie.

The green man lights my way across the road.
leads me right up to the castle gates.
past the crappy pie shop
perhaps i'll just go home.
I scour my purse for my ticket.
fuck it I'd rather walk