Rowan MacDonald πŸ”ˆ

Final Curtain

We played Fridays, got our dole Thursdays.
Pissed it away soon after.

Last show, couldn’t hear any bass.
Looked over and Sid Morris was

guzzling jugs of beer side of stage.
Kylie turned around, shrugged her shoulders.

She was wearing fishnets again,
said she wanted to give me

a better view than usual.
No idea where Sid went after.

We drove around looking.
Next morning, he woke in the park,

had found a comfortable
daisy bush near the mushroom toilet.

First people he saw were German tourists,
thought he had teleported to Germany.

Should have, because we never played again.

Author Reading

About the Author

Rowan MacDonald is a writer and musician from Tasmania. His short fiction was awarded the Kenan Ince Memorial Prize (2023). His words have most recently appeared in Sans, Paper Dragon, Witcraft, OPEN: Journal of Arts & Letters and The Ocotillo Review. His work has also been adapted into short film by New Form Digital. He lives with his dog, Rosie.