These hoppers are conservative & will eat everything
so the sign read Jesus nailed to a gum tree just outside
Narrabri where two seasons previous the Corona had
chugged through a Ballardesque scape of Nolan ewes
& molten dunes, on its way to 20th century stardom:
"Japanese shitbox survives Melb-Brissie marathon."
Driven by hunger, car aerodynamics, wind velocity &
or, just bad insectoid luck, hoppers either glanced off
the Corona's windscreen or dashed their species' genetic
hope on its chipped brandy balloon surface, exoskeleton
hailstorm reduced to droplets of charred fuselage; divine
pest wind ruptured on its post-war functional design.
This all happened around Bland Shire where the Xmas
rush on orgasmatrons exceeded rural expectations & where
for thirty years Chinese restaurants hid chic New York style.
Maroon silk peacock motifs wallpapered West Wyalong &
poets, don't compare these events with Hollywood, lose the
biblical; create your own mythic past if the food's no good.
Anyhow, as the Corona cantered down the Newell Hwy
Patterson's Curse sprang into royal bloom, so Excalibur!
Mid-Western floodplains threw a purple mantle all over
Dubbo, an early present to launch the Outback Elvis Festival.
In Boorman's film version, Arthur rides out to slay his son.
Locust plagues connect us: the land & the King are one.