Inside Out – Matt Aguirre

To take a worn felt inside chair
The kind you can’t buy new anymore
and to place it outside
on the green beckoning blades of a sloping Telopea block
Hoping the act
would awaken a dusty recess
of my mind
Like kissing the full red lips of a memory
Up to my follicles in folly
Weathered like my mailbox
All rusted hinges and taking in 
the cul de sac vista
A decommissioned vessel awaiting reanimation
A morsel of context
to fight off the malaise
And the obsolescence of physicality
I do not seek history
as it is ever-present
It’s in the heaviness of each footstep
The first sigh of the day
Nor do I endeavour to seek
to know the future in all its frivolity
A litany of flimsy ruminations
rendering loved ones colourless
And as inconsequential as dial static
Show me this world from imperfect angles
Let my heart keep breaking just enough
that I can be sure of what I’m feeling
Bitter tonics and sweet elixirs
residing in the mundane
the pedestrian
Jagged shards of beauty
embedded in simple machinations
Imbuing everything with humanity
Allowing me to exhale now
A little bit of myself disappearing
into the suburbs
the traffic
into the Autumn evening
Someday to return