THE PROTEST

I NEVER THOUGHT I would be homeless, it read in the newspaper. I tried to take a photo and the digital scanner took me to another application that asked for money. I wondered where this money goes and if there's an investigation into it. There isn't.

"I'm going to see the light," I thought. And I said goodbye to all the rubbish and piss I'd been sleeping in and took my marigold yellow blanket to the middle of the Bourke Street Mall. I lay down in the middle of the tram tracks. I never lie, I lay there.

A Greek man walked past and said "What the fuck are you doing?". Another man asked if I needed help and I said "no". The third man, a tram conductor, Indian, offered me a coffee from 7/11.

The fourth wasn't worth mentioning but the fifth was a lady who screamed at me with a fluro vest on and then called the cops. I didn't even reply to her. There was no point. She wanted the trams to run and nothing else. Not even herself.

WILLIAM OLIVER WOKE me up.

"What are you doing here, mate?"

I looked at him through my glasses.

"Are you suicidal?"

"No" I replied.

"What do you want?" several police officers asked.

Nobody asked what I needed.

"Why are you here?"

"Because of everything"

"I've asked you three times to move"

"Two" I replied.

"I'm going to have to move you" William said.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

They ripped me from the tracket and threw me into a metal seat. All crowded around.

"You’re breaking several Laws" one young man said.

"Then you better get the charge sheets right" I replied

"What's your name"

"Luke Lawson"

"Luke DAWSON!" he scribbled into his iPad.

"There's no record of you, mate"

"Remember my name." I said to William Oliver.

"I don't want to charge you mate" said William.

"It's up to you" I replied.

“You’re breaking the Law!” Cried the young one.

“Why are all of you so close to me?” I asked. And they all took one step back in unison. 1.5 meters.

"Why are you here?" asked again another.

"Because my landlord wants to kick me out, my internet is cut off, and Melbourne Central, in the middle of Bourke Street, offers free WI-FI."

They all looked concerned and went through the same line of questioning again.

"What do you need, Luke?"

"A glass of water would be nice, and directions to a bathroom"

They all looked around.

"There's a tap over there, the toilet is somewhere else"

William said "you leave now. 24 hours."

I tried to leave and the young man came back.

"There is no Luke Dawson!"

"Luke Lawson"

Name, address, date of birth. I gave it all to them. What if I was black, a woman, a child, anything other than a white male - how would I have been treated?

Once I was directed to leave for the second time. I walked. I saw marigolds everywhere. Marigold on my blanket. Marigolds painted on the walls. Marigolds imprinted into the footpaths. This image came to my mind:

I won't be charged. They couldn't charge a fish. There aren't enough of them and there is little time for them. The coppers are probably in dire straights just like the all of us. What a catastrophé. The circle of misery for EVERYONE.

WILLIAM OLIVER if you ever read this. Remember my name as I did yours. You struck me as a good person, trying to do good. My circumstances are not yours, and yours are not mine.

This story will not get published unless it meets the six hundred word limit. I had fifty eight to go at the start of this sentence at some point and now I have thirty left, or I did. Should I write YOU SERVE US several times as one would shout in unison when engaging in a protest.

What is a protest ever about? Does anybody know? Everything? Nothing? The key is in our hands and minds and we keep doing it to all to ourselves time after time.

If only there actually were a puppet master pulling the strings. That would be safer than ourselves doing it. But we’re all just puppet failures.