#136 ‘Going to
the shop isn’t going to the shop’
Going to the
shop, the only shop in town,
is not simple.
You time it for just after
the fortnightly
truck delivery and even then
the milk is a
week old, the cream is later
than its use by
date and the potatoes are
spotted.
Coloured ices are still cool when
the children ask
for scissors to open them.
Ngarnkurr is
there, long-beard-man,
concern for his
grandchildren and the bush
around here in
his eyes, all that tucker
out there they
need to know about.
His other life
spent studying in academia
politics and
environments, and now here a
twenty-year life
in seasons under clouds
of cockatoos
among the easy grumble
of desert grimed
sandy four-wheel drives.
Out the back, Brian
flicks a working finger at
the leaking
seals on the wheels of our Toyota.
We learn about
something differential from him
and we know now
if we drive it on much further
we’re risking
the poor old truck’s final seizure.
A woman with an
empty purse shows everyone
a picture of her
picture that’s fetching thousands
in the city,
while she wonders what she can buy
from this morning’s fresh delivery.
Wonderful.
ReplyDelete