A yellow fog lay across the suburb today.
Row after row of tired houses
With a yellow fog, heavy on the roads.
A few lights turned on, but still, the fog made everything look old and dirty.
Walking home tonight, I took the back lanes.
People in their houses, eating dinner,
the gutters by the road flowing with rain water.
The suburbs looked alive.
I passed the cancer hospital, still and empty
This time of night, the dying hours, everything is closed like broken eyes.
I think of the fog
And the midday rain.
I dream of sleeping, and waking in a new place,
Like a man who sleeps on a train
Or like a child in the car,
Falling asleep and waking in the morning,
As the family drives into the coastal town
beginning the two week holiday at the beach.