A Whinge

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On Thursday night I drove to the groin 

at the back of Apollo Bay’s harbour.

I was vaguely upset to see two motor homes set up

on the expanded parking lot, one on either side.

maybe there are lots more on other evenings.

 These camp sites must be quite expensive.

Screaming silver gulls were eating discarded chips

I BEEPed feebly and drove out the Barham River.

At Paradise picnic reserve I was definitely upset

Two monster tourist buses had squeezed in 

using up half the public parking spot, 

a bloody tree in the way or there could’ve been more.

Their hapless customers huddled on the road’s edge waving torches.

Presumably the trade has discovered glow worms.

It was raining. Hopefully they weren’t swept away 

by trees, rocks and waterfalls or locals driving home.

Strangely, the only living Beech Trees I can find

are the ones we planted on our farm.  

What’s happened to protected native flora 

Not only is AB plagued by potholes and drainage issues–

like drive ways that appear to flood existing homes

and burn offs willy nilly on windy days

we’ve donated our flora and fauna it seems

to the wheels of progress and rank opportunism.

Maybe flashing lights on the foreshore’s Norfolk Pine 

are compensation for absent street lighting.

We were told koalas would be good for tourism, 

perhaps the Chamber of Commerce should take over

 and inspect buildings at appropriate stages.

We’ve logged the heart out of our forests 

and fed them and live creatures in boats to the export trade

I don’t feel the price of this glittering progress 

is evenly shared around the community, 

nor are all souls adequately informed.

Our recreation reserve presents as a squalid dump.

If the powers that be have decided to shift it 

like the site of the former shire offices, 

is it far too valuable to be wasted on simple folk.

After a shonky consultation the idea of a roundabout

on our most dangerous intersection has been shelved.

Serious action on an expensive parking consultation 

is still being meditated upon, it seems.

Houses make real gold. Grand designs, ocean views.

And monster caravan parks where the poor seek shelter 

rather than cardboard chucked in a vacant garage.

They say everybody visits Apollo Bay once in their lives

and it is truly delightful, a pity about the essentials.