Write a short poem or prose piece on a city that you know well, drawing attention to some of the negative aspects of the way the city is organized. Keep Blake’s “London” in mind as a kind of model.

The serene greenery embeds a deceivingly quiet town in the northern tablelands of New South Wales. Despite the rurality of this pass through town, distinguished by a sole major intersection and scattered lonely stop signs; the wide desolate streets house a sanctuary for local farmers and families on road trips who stop for a rest.

Feral children are let loose to exhaust themselves for the remainder of the scenic route drive on the overused, boiling hot play equipment and poke fun at the misplaced art pieces of rusted metal and over tarred gum that stand intrusive amongst God’s Country. 

These artworks Dad exclaimed to be the reason why the trip home was diverted along the dangerously windy road of Thunderbolts Way, when in reality the art is arranged in an attempt to deter from the steep fuel prices and stale six dollar raspberry friands.

After releasing pent up energy, lunch is bought at the local pub which provides an extensive menu of ‘steak and mushroom pie,’ or ‘fresh fish and chips’ if one is brave enough. The screeching over populated aviary toward the rear of the pub, rudely interrupts quality family time as children race to stick their fingers through the fence, pointing at the colourful yet depressed birds that wish to escape and fly along the Big Sky which they have been captured from.

The mandatory two hour stop is complete as the plush SUV veers left over the polluted river-way and the town is left to recover and awaits cautiously for its next lot of visitors.