jimmy’s red merc’
surf's been up, they say
Apr 23
Such a pretty girl, flashes of underside colour like a dancers' petticoats when she flies overhead
Surprise surprise Frank, they said, look at what we found.
Lismore is a little to the west of Byron Bay - that place on the coast where everybody wears towels
Sammy is the one lying awake and listening to the rumble. Sammy is having doubts.
Big fellow Ben - carries an ugly snake bite scar on his face.
Nat had a funny way of introducing himself to you when he dropped in - sometimes he would slice around into a full-blooded cutback and say hullo to your head with his elbow.
Nobody else can catch him. They're just milling around out there getting closed out and whumped as he streaks out of the pack again.
Scoresby has a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and how these do they beam a steadfast and penetrating gaze on me as I fidget with a notebook and pencil.
Mick has long taken to the drink like a lot of Ballina men, and he likes the first one early and the lack of it has determined that he lose a little dignity in his morning routines.
A dark passageway, all the walls wet and over there a young man racking up a firehose. He watches you pass by. The smell in here is overpowering.
It's a pity that the old Byron Astra is now just another pub full of posers and old men spinning fabulous lies and lowly mistruths.