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A Jimi Hendrix sky descends
upon Sydney at dusk.

Lavender sand settles,
casts the city

in a soothing aesthetic.
Female kangaroos recognize

this tranquil time, enter
evening-abandoned office buildings,

hop up stairs to roofs,
survey what the fuss

of Progress is all about.
Here they find a cupid-like

mailman distributing Purpose
to pouch-proud joeys.

Do not be fooled,
the statement of purpose reads.

This is an illusion,
a Mask of Want.

Return to the grasslands.
Grow old where you belong,

with those who care.
There is nothing for you here.