We walked down the sidewalk of the main road
in the town of Roebourne on a warm Sunday
before the sun could rise too high and burn us.
The buildings bore the names of the businesses
painted on the sides, like a small town diner
or a hotel straight from the movies set in the 1950s,
but this town is current, full of people and flowers
that grow along the fences and stretch to the street.
The street looked fake, like something was hiding
behind the bright, thick paint and the iron fences,
but as I crossed another side street without cars,
I thought maybe the lack of change explains enough.