For Bruddy, on our birthday.

Because we will never run out of things to say

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.