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Poetry on the Road

New Year’s Eve

The steering wheel bucks as the truck broaches the storm.
wind buffets lifting dust, truck and storm race to a violent embrace
lightning splits the sky, a flash of eternity to the bass crash of thunder
nature’s alchemy, rain splashes mud-blood claret across the screen
wipers thrash as blood dissolves the smudge of concussed insect-kill.
The radio calls death-scored body counts as Israel bullies Hamas
the sickening global sport running 350 to 4 in Israel’s favour
Obama awaits his coronation into a court of expectation
Rudd’s apology the story of the year by popular vote
an incubus of need, this business of unfinished business.
The sculpture of dark plum cloud holds anger for elsewhere
post-coital peace, the scape lies replete as dark gullies run life
trailers drip wet gold under piss-yellow street lights,
tropical storm passed, home in time to see the year change
we clink glasses, kill the television and listen to Joan Baez.
Written in January 2009 while driving quads for Hillmans Transport
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