your eyes wander to their new leaves

curling at the sky -

110 emblazoned to the left of the screen,

you search for truth in their cycles but

Inner-West Ennui 

“Above came the rumble-tumble of trains, whines of whistles, the frantic blaring of approaching horns. From below the roars of old buses and the pop of a Porsche or broken-down Ford. A man in a green down jacket, young with spiky black hair, hurried through the soup of neon and sunset.”

Nicholas Osiowy wanders.