a town south of melbourne

conservative ghetto of
6000 drab doublewides

inside some dwellings lie
guest books with unwilled words
without wisdom
but full of unsubstantiated wonder

the religion of the golf course
looms near yards filled
with plastic pelican patriotism

while seashells encircle the base of palm tree trunks
like misplaced and forged crop circles

their paper is
a personal periodical
about the patience of secretively pretentious persons
persons who aren’t quite people but pre-fabricated fellows

Melbourne Australia?

I like it. The opening is my favourite. It was able to draw me in fast. A necessary aspect to good poetry. Something I feel I lack.

anon–florida
koifer–thanks!

Ah, of course. Nice poem. I agree with Koifer.