I had drifted out far beyond
ill-reputed water metaphors
tipped off by a cunning editor.
Careful not to turn oceans to sand,
I considered cityscapes
as the inside of a river oyster.

I gave up amphetamines and yoga,
hunting around for an autobiography
I could live with. I ate hearty steaks
and wandered aimlessly willingly
until blind chance knocked at my door
yelling, ‘The Gold Coast saved me.’

I saw everywhere I’d gone wrong
running about in her sun-filled hazel eyes.
The waves were glass escalators rising
shy with the hum of contentment.
I counted the change in my pockets
as the horizons clouded over with promise.
I had just enough for the last cocktail.