Our Future

so I said, we go together now

in this clapped out car

with the hand break off

drink­ing gin from a jar

down down round round

 

I met him in West­ern Aus­tralia and the sun­set over the ocean didn’t mat­ter because he was look­ing at me with a pair of fluor­es­cent ideas, before I knew it we jumped the fest­ival fence where we danced with bare feet, where we danced with a cigar­ette in one hand, and our time for each other in the other

 

we go together now

in this clapped out car

with the seat­belt off

drink­ing time from a

down down round round

 

in the morn­ing the sun shone onto our dream stained mat­tress  and he told me that he flies out the next day to one of the min­ing towns out Kar­ratha way where death smells like watered down dust and loneli­ness is the only home you’ve got

 

he drives the trucks there

and he drives them in circles

down down, round round

 

and I told him it was a choice but he asked me what sort of choice it is when you’re nine­teen and alone, hated school, Mum’s on the pokies, and they’re pay­ing $120 grand a year. You’ve never seen that kind of money in your life.

 

but four weeks on and one week off isn’t enough time for a love story, not when you run out of things to talk about because the rocks don’t change, the circles don’t change, the times don’t change, but some­how the love does

 

before he knew it he was thirty

he real­ised he never had time to love anyone

because he spent eleven years

driv­ing rocks around in circles

round round down down

ori­gin­ally pub­lished in Bur­ley Issue 3 2012

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