Poem I

Recipe for an Australian Summer Roadtrip

The thick, damp smell of perspiration and sunscreen
leaving oily traces in unexpected places
on car door handles, seats, and sunglasses
bums stuck to seats.
Strange lines crawling, rotating across
faces, arms, thighs and feet.
the flicker of trees, passing
casting light or shadow, light or shadow
strange tan lines. sunburnt feet.
while a single cloud hangs forlorn in the sky.
There is not wind, only the warm
artificial one that comes through the
gap in the window
Conversations evaporating as the water in our
throats dry up.
life freezing in a hot shimmering melt under a red traffic light
Where did the drink bottle go?
A crinkle of sweaty tissues on the
floor. discarded. dehydrated.
Moisture sucked drop by drop.
It’s an easy weight loss program, like
wringing a sponge.
Easy- until thirst can stand no more.
It was in the corner, on the back seat.