me dad Russell Pat Vikki Sharon and Kerry by a king's haul of snapper. The memory slipped into my chest. That's not how to cut oranges boy, my mother says. These memories surprise me, not only my family. One foot over the Hau Moana waiting for the waves to settle so I can get in the dinghy, waiting forever, a crowd of onlookers, I can hear their thoughts: 'will he get in?' A forty-two foot work in ferro cement. Take away the love and the anger. Floating on a determinant. Gills spilling into muscle. Oars' flash. Payment. Payment damn pay me. Payment. Pay. You're grown up now boy. Pick it up. A chess set kicked off a coffee table. A black and blue bum. A girl's skirt lifted in the choir, tears of embarrassment when I'm told off in front of another class. St Peter's wolf cubs at the Anzac Day parade, I'm holding the flag. That's the photo of me outside the Jellicoe Park Pools on Anzac Day. See how I reach for what I cannot have? The cloud poem written about me hunting in the grass looking at a cloud that looks like an alligator. Mrs Naire likes it, asks me to glue cotton wool to the outside. I fold fill and staple it with more wool. I was so proud. She hung it from the classroom ceiling. Watch about you boy. You're in another room. This one has a computer and a printer and a single bed. You're looking at logos of William Claxton and Napoleon brandy. The tape deck is playing Kate Bush. You have a cold, have eaten an overripe orange, dry, you want to go back. I want to go back. I am filling another disk with this. Hello. I know what you've been dreaming. It's a pleasure to select your text. Pick it up. Hello. Mate I know that you're ill. Take the day off work. Work/work? [work] Anne writes: I hope you're dealing with the difference between work and Work. Press return. Huh? uh. My head. The desire of the text, to be desired by text, to write another edition of the text of desire. This is between him and his chest.
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