in newtown/ we just lie in our beds/ when the money
runs out/
for a few days/ before the cheque comes
in/ we just eat flour/ fried in a saucepan/ with
water/
if there's sugar/ we sprinkle it on top/ of
the stuff/ when it's cooked/
the dogs get the same/
then we get sick/ & just go to bed/ 'til the cheque
comes in/
it's a relief/ to be in blankets/ & off the
streets/ & comforting/ to be hungry/ in the company
of friends/
on the third day/ before payment/ we
close the blinds/ & we all lie together/ in the
twilight interior/
on the days closest/ to receiving
the cheque/ it gets quiet/ the worst thing/ is
the dogs/ who are also quiet/
young dogs full of
ribs/ & low lying tails/ they bring in fleas/ but
it's okay/
& the cats/ were on the roof/ two nights
ago/ but have now gone off somewhere/ to fend for
themselves/
a lot of cats 'round here/ in newtown/ we
just lie in our beds/ it's like a tomb/
& we all
pretend we're dead/ for a few days/ each fortnight/
occasionally/ a book of poetry/ or a b & w tv/ with
reception so bad/ we can only see/ dots & shadows/
through the dust/
& vibrant mumblings/ of a world/
so separate from us/ we keep meaning to replace it/
david's been asleep on & off/ but i get restless/ &
the expiry of air from a dog's back passage: ssshhhh/
& the night before the cheque/ the tv is off/ & we
watch mating slugs/ at the foot of our bed/ hanging
on the wall/ entwined/
we thought they were dead/
& no one drinks/ & there's no drugs/ addicts are
generally/ better off/
& you wear long coats/ to
cover/ holes/ in the arse/ of your pants/
we like
winter best/ you feel like/ you're not missing out/
on too much/ when the sky is greyer outside/
you
think/ well it's grey everywhere/ so you most well/
be lying here/ where it's peaceful/
& at first you
count the days/ & then you don't even count the
hours/ until the cheque comes in/
'cause if you build
it up/ in your own mind first/ well $290 doesn't
amount to much/ & it's an anticlimax/
& you spend it
all on the first day anyway/ & we all really gorge
ourselves/
& the taste of food/ well you dribble on
yourself/ it's so tasty/
& the cats are back/ & the
dogs are dribbling all over the blankets/ which is
where we feed them/
we eat in bed/ we end up living
there/ the rest of the house is a real mess/ we
haven't got a vacuum cleaner/
it's not as if we
couldn't get up/ & walk around/ but what's the point?/
the flour makes you sick/
& everywhere you turn/ &
every dream/ or vision/ of greatness/ well you
really need money/ to eat/ charity food will make
you sick/
& you get tired/ in newtown/ we just stay
in our blankets/ when the money runs out/
& even the
dogs don't wanna walk to the park anymore
