Friday, June 25, 2010

Ten Driving Poems 5. As Simple as Seagulls

Why do drivers of grey cars
not turn on headlights?
I dreamed last night that graders
bulldozed the bush above
my house in the Dandenongs.
I don't live in "the Hills".
I woke confused about the meaning
of dreams. A young man at a bus stop in
Rockbank stands out in the rain
short-haired, bespectacled,
wearing a fluoro yellow jacket,
looking intently at the road
behind me. I hope his bus
arrives soon. He looks perplexed.

I wanted music to dilute the sounds
of windscreen wipers forcing themselves
to sweep the glass clear, and to relax
my hands, tightly gripping the steering wheel.
I got The Firebird instead, raucous, too quiet
in parts, so turned it off. No silence but
I also got seagulls without music
heading purposefully across the bypass
from left to right. Yesterday, a larger crowd
had crossed from right to left.
What feeding ground attracted them?

What attracts me to this once-again
two-dimensional city, this grey-on-grey
work of modern art? I believe my car
has had a magnetic implant; all roads
lead to Melbourne, not Rome.

1 comment:

  1. Re-reading this, love it even more — especially the seagulls and the magnetic implant.