Little Song after Curly’s Song

There are imaginations that slice beyond the highway,
regional angels talking policy and strategy. The ideas left me
around midday, blowing out like the data of hairy panic. My way
of becoming multifacets no one’s narrative. But I just quickly
dreamed of a cash railway system still functioning overhead. Coming
back to Earth is real hard after a major dichotomy. Standing tall,
as though claiming vast budgets, we get back to running
the numbers, pulling figures back into the tableau. After all
this stuff, you greet me with a wide-sky grin, inputting disrespect
where you should have ticked that regional box. I’ve stopped hurting
our funding chances & now we can scan every electorate for those regret
levels before streaming the material into our dying waterways. I’m uncertain
about this as a little response to your song, Curly. It’s not wisdom
really, just confusion masked as off-track Riverina freedom.

NB: This sonnet was made using the rhyming words in Curly Mills’s song, ‘Southern Sky’.