Preston 3072. You're sitting at a lemon coloured table at the Old Fire Station Cafe when the barista brings you a triple shot and a gingerbread man with an arm missing. You're thinking that the speckled grey squiggles littering the surface of the formica table resemble stray pubic hairs. You're re/membering the remnants of the man who fell to earth and how when you watched that the first time Bowie was still alive. You're thinking about stray pubic hours and men falling to earth when your mobile goes B-I-N-G. There's an SMS from an inter-state buddy: 'When's your court case? R u ok?' You over-hear a girl in Fuck Me boots say to the barista: "We've all got our demons". You text your buddy back: 'Roller-coaster. Up and down. Talk later?' Preston 3072.
Preston 3072. On Main Street you feed your Lotto ticket through an automated machine that stamps out the diagonal words NOT A WINNING TICKET Around the corner, Cramer's Hotel invites you to dine in the bistro drive through the bottle shop buy a $6 VB schooner for a limited time only and drink responsibly You can't figure it out: how could anybody do that at the same time: dine drive drink schooners drink responsibly WTF you can't figure out how to do anything: change not change killer storms missing limbs falling to earth court cases demons Fuck Me Don't Fuck Me you can't figure it out. Preston 3072.