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THE KANGAROO FILES
4. A Souvenir Shop
B. My Outback
before they are hunted down & turned into dust & skeletons, they will disperse like fog to follow the rain, the route of the wet weather inland, along thin dry grasses & fallen wind shaped branches that spring back beneath the hop, or wildflowers shooting up to fill the wet black noses with maps, & through a scattering of grey clouds, the full light of the moon will shine, so that spotlights of thugs & idiots won't blind them, now, my kangaroo, feed easily, & move among the placid sheep, in this ruined dangerous landscape, & move on before the industry moves in, so that your young do not litter the outback towns, as parcels of worm infested flesh to greet the spring, to welcome the big sweet blowflies that touch down, on the tarmac of extinction, move on, before you become that great kangaroo, jammed onto a fence post, a dead cigarette in the corner of her mouth, a beer can shoved up her anus, twisted hind legs & a stone solid tail caught in the wire, & the small bent forearms stretched towards us saying, oh my outback oh |
