gloating and then sad

you know, I spent Saturday wandering around Melbourne - pizza, hot water in plastic bottles, stumbling pigeons, a deserted market - and I was enjoying myself, I liked that furnace, the hot jets of wind, the comraderie of a city, the lion-pride dozing beneath a kaleidescope ceiling. I had a fabulous dress on that knew what to do with itself in the wind. So achingly pathetic now, that gloating, that luxuriating. As we walked to the NGV, I was reading the tone of the sky, a fire I said, that is all, a peripheral curiosity.