Airlie Beach charms tourists like a scam,
Strutting sequined dresses over fragile bones.
She won’t disappoint; she’s a living commercial,
The limelight is her life force.
Cannonvale scurries around the celebrity,
Painting Airlie a perfect face.
Crowds gasp — Airlie swans into the spotlight,
Leaving Cannonvale waiting in the wings.
Like her father before, Proserpine
Dedicated her life to the Sugar — Cane is the Game.
A blunt blade churning the Prossie Mill
A staunch sheila, warm as her weather.
Dittmer’s a mine of golden seclusion,
She plants her home in the rainforest,
Her hands raise river rock walls,
She blooms and blossoms in recluse.
Shute Harbour Road weaves through the separate
Sisters like a bitumen bloodline,
Born inland, squiggling outwards,
Wishing its asphalt rolled into the Great Barrier Reef.