On Swanston Street in midday glare,
Two young men wandered without a care.
In singlets light and weathered stride,
They moved like currents, side by side.
One bore a cap, his mullet proud,
Sunglasses hooked, his stance unbowed.
He faced ahead, eyes on the flow,
A figure caught in city’s glow.
The other turned, his glance askew,
A bag in hand, tattoos in view.
A smile broke free—half sun, half jest,
As though the world had passed some test.
Diverging steps in Melbourne's heat,
Two stories danced along the street.
Each bearing tone, a silent song,
Of youth adrift, where all belongs.
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