Sweet sweat

A large-bladed knife
scabby with rust - or blood
on one side
dull steel gleam
on the other

Poised on the sharp edge of the blade
balanced between civilization
and the raw power of the natural world

You shiver at 24 degrees celsius
and wear sox to bed

And read in the morning paper
about the 4 metre crocodile
on the beach
opposite your front door

Where once in five years
you turn off the fans

Where yellow fig birds
pure white torres strait pigeons
bronze shouldered doves
rainbow lorikeets
white and black cockatoos
bush curlews and several kinds of kite
are daily visitors to your suburban home

And frill-necked lizards
posture and dance
and dodge road-trains
on the highway

Darwin
where you soon believe
it's unreasonable to travel more than 20 minutes
to get anywhere within the city limits

and if you can't park within 20 metres of the door
you might as well turn around
and go home


Where one day you're being eaten by mozzies
and tormented by sandflies
sitting cross-legged
sweating and steaming
on the dusty red earth
of Arnhem Land

And eight hours later
enjoying a glass of champagne
and an Eric Bogle concert
at the air-conditioned
entertainment centre