The sound

The sound of MY FAVOURITE BAND
       is an apricot’s juice on my tongue,
       my chin, my wrist, my t-shirt
The sound of MY FAVOURITE BAND
       is rain and the warm wet of summer Sydney rain
       and the smell of rain on a hot road
The sound of MY FAVOURITE BAND
       is light filtering through leaves,
       is a jacaranda tree, purple licked onto green,
       is sunset over a polluted city,
       is sparks and spangles,
       is shafts of old wooden darkness
       tarred by time
The sound of MY FAVOURITE BAND
       is heroin or whiskey or cut wrists,
       is a searing coal and cold running water,
       is my blood feeding the earth,
       is plain sweat.
The sound of MY FAVOURITE BAND
       is a touch, a glance, a smile,
       is eyes meeting,
       is the moment before a hug
       and the moment after.
The sound of MY FAVOURITE BAND
       is old and embarrassing
       and cute and new.
       Is too hot to touch
       and unspeakably cool.
The sound of MY FAVOURITE BAND
       is the roar of roadtrains,
       is the moan of a mother and the answering wail
       of her child,
       is the thunder thump and hush
       and whisper
       and rumble and race of a race.
       Is gulls over grey water.
The sound of MY FAVOURITE BAND
       is all of it,
       all of you,
       all of it.
       All.