Two girls in matching home-sewn frocks
And straight-cut brunette fringes
Grew up through skates and fluoro socks
And late-night rock-pig binges.
Each day they speak, as is their wont,
Of food and films and art,
And how Australians say “croissant”
And whether sparrows fart.
Ensconced in the loquacious now
For forty-two years long;
If two were only one, somehow
The world would seem quite wrong.