Well, she said, it’s been a while.
As it had; 40 years or more.
She was young and wanted a lift.
Oh, you must remember –
The road to Canberra
Autumn frost’s silver sheet and blackened trees
Peripheral place names and Kris Kristofferson’s
Sunday Morning Coming Down;
And us, going up and coming down;
Thoughtless oblivion at the helm of a Holden.
Driving to somewhere and nowhere,
Drinking and singing to the road’s end.
And you looked at me as though I didn’t exist;
Not in any real sense, beyond this and that.
You look at me now through tired eyes
As though we shared an epiphany –
All we shared, I recall, was a look
And it, really, didn’t add up to much