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Sun’s going down
Blue veil, tussocks
Pavements still warm.
Cool breeze though.
            I forgot jandals
But I got a jersey –
Your little sister’s I think,
Still fits,
There is excitement in our steps,
Bits of shell and stone
            To the beach
Tonight someone’s gonna get
You and me we got sticks, wood
Driftwood all bony and
Marrowed like dry bones     osteoporosis
They start to light it,
Was worried there was too
Many, didn’t want it to
Burn too high.
Always worrying like that
            I was.
I was right. It was huge
And it rushed up and flattened us into shadows
And silhouettes against the quiet sea.
Omniscient, constant
Presences that quell and unease
In the lot of us.                      More excitement.
Your freckles flicker in between the smoke and
You sing into my hair – someone
Desperately strumming on that guitar.
Your hair is in my mouth, a strand, but I leave it and
One of them, the guy with the bottle is
Luring you nearer I get nervous
And the moment is slipping away and the sea gets louder when I try to get your attention
Back, you’ve got the bottle to your mouth now
            My arms
Pushed hard
To my
Try stop the pound
My chest.
Your smile his hand on your neck
Your hair is still in my mouth,
Someone is gonna get kissed.

Georgie Johnson is a third year student at Victoria University and every moment in between a writer and artist. She is fascinated with human nature; the mundane interests her the most. For her writing is about trying to capture a feeling and running with that.