pretty (was)

it’s a pretty little town here we are on main street the municipal offices rise proud halfway down the block that shop there is the newsagent across the road the pharmacy six days a week bakery buns are a treat they do pink lamingtons on every major corner there’s a pub this town has a thirst you know and the gardens (memorial) are a hundred and fifty years old bunya pines with their prickle leaves rise up into the sky the next street down has the oldest houses weatherboard walls tin roofs on a quarter acre elm trees are the civic pride and the streets are long paved with bitumen the kids can play on the forest reserve like their parents did and theirs before them kids can play like they always could they will play around here I think forever

this used to be a town you can see this was a main street all the patches the ash patches were buildings once you can see what was the main drag and what’s left of where the shops were twisted tin a few bricks wisps rising from suspicious looking mounds they could be anything I believe they had a long line of old trees here you can see it’s a sort of rectangle of about an acre nothing there now so I might be wrong all the way along this road the tar has melted schools are gone all the old houses this is a war zone with nothing left but discoloured rectangles of around about a quarter acre the forest those few sticks there is still smouldering I suppose they must have let it grow too close no problem now though it is gone for good

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