Two Hundred and Seventy-Three.


Izzy circle


say something like, “run a mile”
say, “watch yourself”
say, “look where you’re going”

say something like, “this could never happen to me”


Sarah circle


The mist paws at the glass, draws away, comes back kissing. I breathe onto the window and draw a smiley face for it to love. My breath grows heavy, the water collects and the smiley face eyes start crying. The mouth grows strings of beaded rain. The car heater rattles whenever we turn corners. Freeway exit ramps grate. Roundabouts are intolerable. We sit in the sort of sharded silence caused by too many teeth being grated, too many jaws held tensely, too much breath let out too fast. The indicator ticks dully. A truck shoots a wave of dirt and water past us and the lights of the highway turn to fat round flecks. The dark is coming quick now, and we are hurrying, scurrying across the big, flat Australian nothing.



Have words to throw back at us?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s