Early Morning Post Modern Expressionism
a red dress paints its way down the pavement
swaying hips splash shades of lust
across the canvass of Lygon street
she is iridescent on the pallet of the night
the Italian boys whistle after her
black leather clad stallions
would be if they could be
but they’re really just prancing ponies
turning on one stiletto
that red dress sings to me
a song you only hear when you’re alone
it makes promises hard to keep
better put down this brush before I paint myself into a corner
Wayne Scheggia
May, 2004
Dry Cleaning
he captured her
with a few scribbled words
and a phone number
on the back of a business card
at 3.00 am
outside Macy’s Night Club
in 1983
he had spilt a glass of beer
on her jacket
while pushing through the crowd
near the bar
she slapped him with her eyes
as he wiped his apology
all over her sleeve
but his clumsiness was endearing
and out of 300 men
he was the one
who asked her to dance
it’s hard to talk
on the dance floor at Macy’s
her friends
trying to move her on
so he pressed his card
into the palm of her hand
as the girls dragged her off
down Toorak Road
she found the card
on Monday morning
at the bottom of her handbag
amongst four shades of lipstick
an eyeliner
and her sunglasses
it read; “you owe me a beer”
so she called him
on her way to the dry cleaners
and they say romance is dead
Wayne Scheggia
May, 2004
Twisted Piece Of Wire
a twisted piece of wire
hangs a fox from the fence post
fly-blown and putrid
just like the dreams he had
for 1,000 acres at Green’s Creek
fat and healthy sheep
worth a mint at the time
the price of wool promised
a fat and healthy cheque
just in time for the mortgage
and the Christmas holidays
but the market doesn’t always keep it’s promises
and dreams mean nothing when God is set against you
after 40 days of plummeting prices
after 40 nights of washed out dreams
after a lifetime of almost making it
he gave the farm back
to a small man
in a grey suit
from which Bank ?
closing the gate for the last time
he took one last look around
he took one last breath of gum and dust
he took the twelve gauge from the ute
and put it to his head
they found him in the morning
next to the fox
by the fence post
beneath the gate
and a twisted piece of wire.
Wayne Scheggia
May, 2004
God’s Words
her soft cheek rests uncomforted
against God’s words
those words
not enough to console or maintain her
for what do babes know of God
how do they know where to go
when He calls them early
she never had time
to read those words to hers
now she fears
her boy is lost forever
so she looks for sign posts
that she can set
a cross
a headstone
a red rose bush
and she reads the words
every night aloud
just in case her boy might hear
as he wanders heavens halls
she falls asleep into her bible
to dream him back to life
but as he runs towards her
she awakens back into the night
and God’s words
Wayne Scheggia
May, 2004
Colors
empathy you say
but how could you know
his blue mouth
painted her self-respect
black
but only when they were alone
his yellow fists
painted her body
purple
hidden by layers and excuses
his red temper
put her life to the flame
orange
she burned away
our white hands
throw ash across ocean
grey
finally she drifts free
and you think you understand
how could anyone truly know
her colors
Wayne Scheggia
May, 2004
