Divas' Intelligentsia

It was the kind of love that woke me up
at four a.m. in melbourne in a bed
where oceans rushed around inside my head
and fizzed like yellow bubbles in a cup.
Across the highway, morning called 'wassup?'
in freshly tagged graffiti on a shed
where concrete walls were glistening in lead
and telling old wise men to hurry up.
The words flew past like flies on violet light
and once we hit geelong the day was cool
but summer called us back into the night
while shoolkids caught their buses home from school.
We lingered, near the river, dressed in blue.
And though the face was old the smile was new.