The pack found her first

line-up at centrelink

has me standing a minute

             setting off the auto-door

before I                  break with conformity

& stand to the side



the person in the line before me

continues to activate the sensors

as he shifts from foot          to foot

inwardly cursing bureaucracy



I realise that his clothes

    are the same clothes

they arrested him in

over outstanding fines

     or domestic violence



a staff member

        breaks with         convention

singling out the convict

on our side of the petitioners' altar

& pins him with a quiz



        "When were you released?


                What time?


        How did you get here?


                Have you got a place to stay?


        Can you wait until tomorrow to be paid?"



then a peremptory gesture

as they take a booth

with no prior appointment

         no parole-officer

           or advocate in sight



then in walks lucy

              or so they call her

few sangas short of a picnic,

got some screws loose, lucy

       she skips the line

       slurring demands over the counter



I see her around a lot

not usually like this

   all       over        the        place

like she's gone to the dogs

                      or the pack found her first



today I haven't the strength

to deal with lucy

         or the lonely convict

my heart is no longer in it

                                       at centrelink



pocketing my dole-form

I give lucy a rueful smile

               & wish the staff

would go a little easier on the con



activating the auto-doors

I'll wait another day

    to process my form

           & give the line-up a little relief



at centrelink

I drop in my dole-form

              once a fortnight

when I mingle

                with the underclass