Sydney

I walk and talk down the bustling alleys of a place that I distinctly know from somewhere
(no no that was a dream)
but I can’t remember where, and there’s a coffee shop over my shoulder with a teenage guy behind the counter who has a perfect cup-and-saucer grin plastered to his face
(oh dear I wonder what he’s gotten into)
which is one in a hundred, thousand, million chiseled feature fountains that bear down upon me and make me think
(so many lucky people here)
of an ice cream shop with one hundred fantastic fun flavors
(chocolate cherry limeade orange swirl)
that I haven’t tried yet because I just got here, and even though I don’t really and truly belong
(after only a few fragile hours)
I feel connected to the sunset as if I were a set of shiny training wheels, and the sights, the sounds tastes smells PERFUMES
(expensive cologne)
spin me up and around like a Ferris wheel
(the one at Luna Park)
and I know that THIS is as close as the world gets to perfection, THIS, that everyone laughed at me for
(fingers pointing sides shaking because i’m stupid, idealistic)
but I know they won’t be laughing anymore because I have FOUND the answer
(to the question nobody really asked in the first place)
and I was RIGHT all along, I know I was RIGHT because no other milkshake tastes like this
(vanilla in heaven)
and no other people sound like this
(musical)
and no feeling FEELS like this
(sweet)
so please can I stay forever?


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