9. THE HAND THING THAT PEOPLE DO IN CARS ON OUTBACK ROADS
fingers creep up the dash, building pillars of civilization and acknowledgment of similarities,
out here they wave at you, they nod and wave when really you want to drive away,
there is 'the tired truck driver knuckle lift,' duromine ran out, gettin' a bit sleepy on it mate,
hey, that bloke's all over the bloody road, he's hallucinating, give 'em a wink,
blink 'em with the blinker, to thank them for moving over while overtaking
or indicating that it was safe for overtaking, that bastard's still asleep,
blast 'em with the high beam, one flash for police, turn 'em on when driving into the sun,
mainly tourists do it, this finger salute, something about us all being an a big trip together,
although I never really knew them and doubt if I ever wanted to,
nothing much in common but this exchange of tilted forefingers,
something in their excitement, about travelling around the continent,
most couples have waited until after retirement to find themselves suddenly here,
in winter the hand is opened up over the glove box, dash and steering wheel
to catch the heat, the palms act as winter solar plates,
the forefinger is held up, lifted forward from the palm, the fingernail facing you
and an outstretched fingerprint arching forwards accompanied by a nod of the head,
mouth turned down, partial frown, serious rugged look meant to say,
'you are surrounded by what frightens and delights you,' 'but she'll be right mate' or
'no worries, we're both rugged with a nod of my sunburnt neck, I represent civilization,'
so we stop and help people with car problems, during the day this outback generosity,
but after dark, after the pub shuts, along the single lane highways, carry a shotgun,
keep it warm and available beside you in your swag or sleeping bag,
don't sleep too deeply or just when you least expect it, you'll wake up dead, or mad,
lights on but nobody's home, the elevator doesn't go to the top floor, not playing
with a full deck of cards, two cents short of the dollar, no-body's mate anymore,
because you were the fuckwit who let the petrol overflow,
it's only when it clocks that they switch it off, act like the nozzle's a fucking watering can,
it's an EH Holden, it's not a fucken garden, you're gonna wreck the paint work,
now chuck some fucking water over it and wipe it down with the shammy |
