The intimacy of a naked skyline had always been a bit too much for the girl who had grown up tracing her thoughts on the moist windows of skyscrapers that tore through the emptiness  of open skies and lonely hearts. The city would always be her first lover, the sea winds her first kiss, and the inhuman slums her first heartbreak - this wasn't your ordinary girl.

The arch of the Sydney harbour bridge reminds me of how her back arched the first time I kissed her neck and the horizon melted right in front of my eyes. The bridge's arch might be a testament to human civilization, but hers is the reason why you can someday justify the pain of your first heartbreak to your daughter as she breaks down before her high school prom. The  bridge's arch might stand tall against the trials of time, but hers is the reason why you will see your past flicker in the flames fanned on every bonfire night.

But before you fall in love with the arch and wish bridges could heal all distances, you need to know there are some that even the best and the most beautiful can't.

You know, sitting on the docks of Port Jackson reminds me how I was born in the small port town of an insignificant island and I had grown up with more sand in my slippers than tongue in my cheek. Everytime you swing your legs from the edges of the dock to feel the spray of the recurring waves on your naked calves, the waves seem to sing about how they taught me never to give up on a shoreline, no matter how close or distant its breath on your face.

Its funny how I never ended up finding that Italian place by the harbour where I taught you how to soak in the flavour of a single malt scotch while you taught me how to soak in the flavour of life. Its funny because you always wanted me to find us that spot, in case we wanted to relive the mistakes we made that night.
But then I guess,
There are some mistakes, you are not allowed to make twice.

The sun setting on the city still looks beautiful from the edges of the harbour each day,
But it makes me wish we had stayed behind long enough to see the sun rise from underneath the sea.

Why so smug?
Seems those pygmy dreams
bore fruit long before
you left safe harbour.

Come back home
once you have defeated
land-locked fear,
hurdled every heaving horizon
and found the stars.

Come back and show me
your war torn scars
and deep wild bruises.
Show me a worn down ego
and weathered soul.

Then you can boldly enter
eternal harbour.

He sits with aging canvas bags
Draped around him on the windy quay
Where blown from busy parks he's come
Sheathed in crumpled rags, in skin
Seasoned by the salt and sun.

An old man by the harbour-side
Mincing bread in callused hands
And casting crumbs
To a congregation of silver gulls
Which parasitic and competitive
Move in a constant emotional state
About his feet.

And he beats a slow sad rhythm as he goes
In tattered shoes
Amongst the city's spirallings,
Between the tidal, restless, to's and fro's.
On habitual, familiar paths,
Which only the vagabonds know,
He steers his ragged ship of bones
And breaks the bow upon the parting throng.

A shed, six by four, painted,
Landy green, black roof
Local fishmongers
Down by the harbor gates
Battered wooden, fish crates
Smelling of the ocean, the waves,
The spray
Weathered, worn, faded brown
Trawlers name a disappearing outline
A boy in shorts, blond hair
Tugging at his mother’s skirts
Pointing,
Spattered orange dotted flat fish
Flapping, fresh from the boat.
Propped against the side wall
A box of jade, and emerald sea jewels
Eyes frozen in time.
Chalk board hung from open door,
With names, prices , beyond understanding.
To the boy fantastical creatures  
A man in a white coat, money rattling in pocket
Scales set on a bench, ready to measure out scales
For the women of the seaside town
All the gossip, the fish, and the stories
From one little shed down by the harbor wall
A boys face mesmerized, by cod
Larger than he, caught on a wall hook
Swift knife movements, and fillets,
Laid on yesterdays newspaper
Bones, and head thrown into a bucket
Large lazy yellow eyed seagull,
Sauntering like a casual thief, eye
On the bucket…