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-
JUDE AQUILINA
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Lone Road Trip
-
- Hypnotised by the flashing strobe of sun
- through the trunks of trees, and by
- the sandy whorls, slowly growing
- beyond, in the ploughed earth of fields,
-
- I drive my silver bubble. I have covered
- 1,000 kilometres between sun up and now.
- My front right tyre sits plumb-bob
- on the white line. I barely have to
think.
-
- My eyes drift to ruins, rocky outcrops
- and abandoned tractors. If my mind
- was a memory stick, it would overflow
- with images of settlers gathering stones.
-
- If I didn’t have to stop for food
and fuel
- I might keep driving until I too wasted
- into dust. The outback is an anaesthetic,
- soothing, surreal. A CD for company,
-
- silos appear as Verdi reaches crescendo
- and I feel like I’m in a strange
opera
- the pipe organ vibration of the engine,
- the curtain of silver rain clouds over
sunset.
-
- In the soul-bathing light of early
evening,
- drops of rain lace the dust on my
windscreen.
- I pull over, give praise from a forgotten
place
- inside me, as the sun slips under the
road ahead.
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