THREE WAYS ROADHOUSE
dawn/ an unknown bird calls out from the white
cedar/ in a tree farther away another bird calls
back/ & a more distant bird lets its territory
be known from the still mauve west/ this morning
three birds woke me/ i walked out into semi arid
gentleness/ behind the civilisation of three ways
roadhouse/ hearing the sound of my own footsteps
following me/ the sky the sun so huge so high
overhead/ everything beneath its weather smaller/
in hiding/ affected/ sliding into cracks between
rocks/ or running with speedy sawmill legs & light
airborn tails to beneath the next thorny bush/
prickles keep the sunlight out/ they keep my shy
& nervous footfall rising & falling to the next
tree shadow/ i tread lightly amongst the furry
tuffs/ nothing is as soft as it looks/ i will not
bend down to tug loose the last uneaten herbs or
flowers/
this morning roadtrains packed with living
cattle mowed down silence/ rumbling monstrously into
three ways roadhouse/ stamping & kicking the steel
grid floor/ shaking us from our dreaming/ colliding
like barrels into steel or rolling down planks of
wood into strong mens' forearms/ i thought they must
have been unloading beer or rum/ but they were big
herbivores/ chunky heads looked at me through steel
slats/ what were they thinking?/ three days on the
highway in 45 degrees/ could they taste the grassy
coolness of the overnight sprinkler?/ or smell the
warm bore water drying on my singlet?/ smaller heads
& pale tongues hanging loose between larger legs/
trying to catch a glimpse of me/ what's the point?/
my hard gaze stabs back at them unblinking/ our
common ground splits my aching throat/ what can i
do to save you from the darwin meatworks?/ hot tears
sliding down bore water cheeks/ at the dry stamping
truck pulling out heading north/
the night before
i spoke with two brothers on trail bikes from near
roma/ the outspoken one kept inching closer/ his
smile bigger & bigger/ when i tried to look into
his pupils i saw spirals/ the evening sun burning
into the back of my neck/ when i lay down to sleep
beneath the white cedar he loomed over me/ talking
about his travels & sillier & sillier things/ then
when the other went to the shower/ he said softly:
me younger brother's real quiet/ 'e 'asn't left the
property & 'e's almost thirty/ yar've got ter get out
& mingle/ i've lived in wollongong & perth/ & so i
thought i'd take 'im on a holiday/ but 'e's homesick
& doesn't wanta meet people/ 'e wanted me ter travel
in the car with 'im/ but 'e never talks & i couldn't
stand it/ so we're on bikes/ we could use bush camps
but it gets too lonely & yar don't get ter meet people/
so we mostly hang aroun' roadhouses/ we drink a few
beers & they serve good steak sandwiches/
i had noticed the brother/ less predatory, just as
angry/ slinking around behind his bike keeping
himself busy/ straight fawn hair on red brown skin
& deep bown eyes like a skink/ i had heard the
saying: that if you're camping 400 kms out from
around alice springs in any direction/ & you're
making a billy of tea/ make it for two/ a man like
the quiet brother would most likely turn up/ i had
remembered the stretch from rockhampton to townsville/
a thousand kilometres of scribbly gum & scrubby gum
forest & the low blue grey dividing range rising
slowly & falling/ rising slowly & falling/ i had
kept myself occupied by the perpetual thinking of
what would be beyond the next range/ & if only i
had the energy to drive a little further/ there were
no rest stops/ the quiet brother could live behind a
mountain range & from the road you would never see
him/ one day someone would find his skeleton by the
whistle of sand blowing in it/ if you listen carefully
to this brother/ you can hear the desert past his
silence saying: been out in the bush too long/ his
unapproachable expression turning into wind/ & his
dull white knuckles cracking softly onto trail bike
handles |
