Valentine’s Day in this city

Valentine’s day in this city
has the worst weather, so hot, so
hot, so hot, so hot, the
airconditioner, growling, grinding, rattling
when the vanes turn north,
I can’t think, can’t
breathe, I can loudly cry, like
the mating call of a frog, nobody takes it
among all the motors roaring.
                                                        I kissed him on a train
in the dream I kissed him on a train rattling
down the middle of the freeway, racketing
over the Narrows Bridge, going south,
going to Mandurah going to Margaret River going
to Denmark going to the karri trees going
to Ocean Beach Boat Harbour Peaceful Bay going
to my old boy-watching window in the school library going
to Antarctica.
                          I hate this city
with its violent February
weather, its once-a-year humid
Valentines, its rattling grinding
             I hate this city where I cannot kiss him.

An earlier version of this poem was published in Creatrix