Howard Firkin
Just walk with me where rock shelves poke red tongues
out to the sea and shelter lives as countless
as the stars, significant as ours.

Just walk with me through crowds of eucalypts,
their litter at our feet, their noisy rush
of leaves, big city in their scorn of us.

Just walk with me through air that sounds like gravel,
electric and alive and booming like
artillery and sweet with coming rain.

Just walk with me, insist on your opinion,
press your hand upon my forearm, talk
as if you chose your words, as if they meant.

Just walk with me and scuff time’s foreshore for us,
indelible, and pay no mind to tide.