Parked in Prahran
Rochina’d come to live in Melbourne. Down
At Barwon Heads we bought a little shack.
We fixed it up, spent many happy days
Along those beaches, loved the walks and cafes.
Then later on we settled in Prahran –
We bought a semi old and tired, untouched
For years until we added paint and love.
Our dog was Axel – didn’t like so small
A garden; crazed by thunder ripped apart
The new French doors four times, so poor old dog
He had to go. Prahran was crowded, felt
Like living back to back. Developers
Were building lots of flats; we fought them hard
And scored a very minor win. Dad died
Around that time; I’m glad we’d done a book
That marked his full and varied life.
He didn’t want some things included – not
For him the stuff on Jewish or eccentric
Forbears, no not in Dad’s successful tale.
A few years later Mum was failing; it’s
A sad and lonely state, dementia. I
Became her carer, not so easy given
The complex mix of feelings. She in time
No longer safe at home, so moved to care
Nearby. And then there’s Kim my loving sister,
So diff’rent she from me; a party girl,
Her health destroyed by diabetes; sad
That Kim can make her art no longer. That’s
What happens – shit; but life goes on. I had
Another motor bike mishap – a car
I had to buy, so always stuck in traffic,
Decided Bayside seemed a better place
To live. We sold up Barwon Heads but had
Our little Staffy Lucy to console
Us. Rochi now had left the Law and joined
The art world; moving far away was hard
For her; thank God she likes the trains and trams.
‘Round then I had a boys’ own trip across
The country; such a little plane it was
But full of pluck, and skilful was our captain.
The Kimberley was oh so gorgeous; back
Across the deserts flew the tiny bird.
We found a little house in Sandringham
And started life amid the Bayside folk.