Robert Verdon, #70, Private Lies, a Letter to the Canberra Times

 [to be read in an idiotic ‛public service’ voice]

My place is a dogbox

on Flemington Road

painted garish primary

colours, cheaper in bulk.

From my small window

I can glimpse

Parliament House

(if not Sydney Opera House

and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon)

and the glaring sweep

that is Canberra

from this distance.

In every way

I am free,

yet restricted

by the market

dictatorship,

not permitted

even to swing

a (hated) cat.

However, I am

gainfully employed

in a department

dedicated to exposing

such private lies,

despite its recent

defunding.

In this, I hope

Sisyphus is happy.