You meet a man for the first time

on the last day of his life.

He asks if you're keeping busy.

Then he and his ruddy cousin

talk of a sepia Swan Hill, when 'Cheyenne

started at fifty to one, six shillings to win,

four bob for us, two bob for mum'.

This first collection of poems by Melbourne-based poet Mark Wills is filled with wry observations on the gap between city and bush, the gap between style and substance, and tender reflections on intimacy and family.