English in the Northern Territory

When it gets hot, I will remember the mornings
Crunching November, precisely frosted
Skating the puddles without a worry.
I will cope by wanting to leave a glint

I will walk to the beach to look back
And swim, fatty like, on top of the surf
My muscles will learn to make a moment
I will listen to the radio like older men

When it gets hot, I will reinvent my history
Blending character recently adrift
Cast to an island, exotic and like home
That heats a bowl of leaves.

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