For my sins, and because I didn’t take any leave leading up to the festive season, I was sent to work with the only person in Street Trees still working, a casual, to help out with their watering of the most recently planted verge trees. Thus, I spent two days with my hand out the window, watering plants, talking shit and being a solid passenger princess.
At lunch, the conversion took an unexpected turn; poetry and masculinity. I mentioned the proud tradition of male poets in Iran, as well as our own traditional of bush poetry. Conner, in a display of ego so common in Street Trees workers, declared that he has recently challenged himself to write a poem for his wife every week. Not willing this to go unanswered, I mentioned that I had written a poem from the point of view of The Most Recent Ex, about her love for koalas and my obvious inadequacy compared to them. I also stated that it was a shame that no one else had ever seen it, as I had planned to read it out to the Peel Street Poetry Club in Hong Kong with her next time I visited Hong Kong. Conner said that I should publish the poem somewhere, just on principle. It was the only half way intelligent thing he said all day.
So here is the poem, most likely the only one I will ever write, assuming of course that it could even be considered a poem.
My Australian lover is not as cute as a koala,
But is blessedly free of chlamydia
He doesn’t eat leaves,
He does eat too much beef jerky
He doesn’t live in a tree,
But dreams of living in a tree-house
He is not much smarter than a koala,
But is just smart enough to date me
There is no Wikipedia heading for Adrian Poetry,
But he did buy me a fountain pen
There are no conservation efforts to save Adrian,
But he is involved in conservation efforts
My Australian lover is vastly inferior to a koala,
But he will have to do until I can get an import permit.
Adrian's Got The Moose 