In 2005 I took my grandchildren
to the Newcastle Show and on our train
homeward bound, three revellers
on their way to Mardi Gras absorbed us
so much we missed our exit station
but the Mardi Gras trio, two young women
and a young man, helped us alight later.
The empty station, bleak compared
to Oxford St, with two platforms and tracks
seemed unwelcome. I wondered how
the threesome fared, imagined
they had a great time of colour and meaning.
A month after I swore I saw one
of the women from the train
on the front page of the local paper.
Renae Lawrence from the Bali Nine
had an uncanny similarity to the woman
who entertained my grandchildren so kindly.