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Your mother made me
just in case, she said,
which kinda freaked me out,
so I said to her,
Da Man is fine, babe.
Billy chased me round the playgroundwith hands full of fists
Billy yelled at me across the football pitchwith a mouth full of stings.
When they were young,She kept wicket for her brothers,They batted,Bowled,Padded upAnd ratcheted up the score.She crouched behind the stumpsKeeping wicket.
I told a whopper, a fib, a lie.Slipped out of my mouth. It was slimy, sly.
It was the summer
when Now and Laters
cost a nickel
and The Fantastic Four,
When I met
Miss Flotsam was my reception teacher.She had travelled the world.Brown hair turned goldenunder distant suns,clothes carrying coloursfrom countless corners of continents.
I was born with a map of Australia on my face;it was beautiful, my mother told me – there was nobody like me in the whole wide worldwho could trace the edges of down under