My friend Steve Smith

The day breaks the heart;
night soothes it.
Driving home at night,
protected and alone,
rain refracts the city lights
making them register as pinpricks
in an inner loneliness.
I think about my friend Steve Smith.
We met randomly.
Old, old.
Tattooed - colourful.
But clear, like watercolor.
No, stronger. Maybe ink.
When some people talk
you just listen
Because it's like they're colouring in your outlines.
Trust. Friendship.
Two days in the wandering sun.
And the memory
drops like a brass coin
in the hollow night
In the city that breaks people's hearts
I think about my friend Steve Smith.

Steve Smith, [Untitled], 2006, oil on canvas, 37 x 47 cm
from Ray Hughes Gallery, Sydney