Territory Trample
Headlights messaged through midnight windows
Curtainless glass unable to subdue the urgency
Car obtained in street nearby was theirs temporarily
Three hour drive to ship leaving island next morning
Two sixteen year old girls barely registered surprise
Departure in stolen car and pre booked boat tickets
Organised by their boyfriends unbeknownst to them
Running was the solution, in debt to local drug dealer
'Dope' was the drug of choice, smoked ounce per week
Sigrid imbibed modestly, low tolerance combined
with holding down a job in seafood factory, six am start
Returning to three wasted friends each day spoke injustice
A decade of drama entered rented house in twenty weeks
Schizophrenic boyfriend out, girlfriend's homeless cousins in
Toddlers topped up brandy milk helped them sleep through
Brawls which arose like tides, fooled friends fought it out
Arrived at the other side, Melbourne's big smoke so foreign
Crouched unshowered teenager eating a packet of chips
On St. Kilda's synonymous streets, unrecognised to her
Accused of being a heroin in addict, advised to move on
Ship tickets had nearly expired their funds
Tight few nights in backpacker hostel, plans made
For guys to take steel mill jobs in far off Port Augusta
Both in mid twenties, it seemed their predominance was wayward
Four uncouth looking youth carrying suitcases
Were not prime candidates for receiving rides
Hitchike attempt out of Melbourne a success
Despite their dodgy record, God on their side
Lunatic 'gem hunter' who willingly filled his car
Dropped the group off at trajectory's junction
Higway ten miles from tiny town, Crystal Brook
Hundreds of miles from crowded Melbourne mayhem
Not surprisingly, increasingly ragged downtrodden bunch
Couldn't pick up a further group ride to save themselves
Post Easter Australian nights by highway left them damp
Passing semi trailers sent five second cyclone disruption
Two wet bedding mornings saw quilts hung over the highway sign
By the third dawn it dawned on them, walking to town best option
Trek into Crystal Brook bearing large suitcases (without wheels)
was arduous, the sparsely housed streets long awaited relief
Jaunty doily clouds looked down on a bird song farming town
Verandah fronted shops reflected sun from their deep set eyes
The pub (typically one of two in any one horse town), was named Queens' Head
In walked the four vagabonds, saddled with air of ridiculous confidence
Owners agreed to accommodate them in the purpose laid out rooms upstairs
Sigrid and Kristy were enamoured by the bathroom, stocked with shampoo
The homely silky sweetness of a warm vast bathroom, pink carpeted
Pinnacle of their week, an absolute treat, Herbal Essence Heaven
Two waiting weeks they stayed at Queens Head, otherwise guest free each night
Wayne and Fred agreed to saw some timber, help with renovations for owner couple
In exchange for board, a currency more available than money
Good on paper, flawed when considering alcohol's availability
As though it's a fiction, only more difficult, as Sigrid cannot create
A character, as drawn from memory, vague beside vibrant
Nights saw them in the pub, girls age 16, were they served alcohol?
Cigarettes, apple cider fragrance sex ended with immediate snoring
Owing piling money the desirable ojects obtained by kindness credit
The flouting four were ordered to leave, so packed, they put boots to pavement
Walking the deserted back road, eventual seven miles lead to caravan park
Marking Warnertown, a shop breaking long highway monotiny
Single older man was owner of red dusty run-down caravan park
Hardly a haven, a necessity perhaps if travellers' car broke down
Bob agreed to put the four up (on credit) in an echoing dorm room
During days the shop assistant was in, he drove them to town for supplies
Port Pirie was thirty miles from Warnertown, a decent sized city
Sigrid suggestion that they stay there was aggressively rejected
From there, a couple of hours drive to elusive Port Augusta
The grand aim to boost bank accounts, steel mill ten hour shifts
Dusty red dirt days dragged, still money was 'non existent'
Buying a carton of beer each day was standard for Wayne and Fred
They demanded complete control of the girls' welfare cheques
Kristy also drank, but Sigrid hadn't a taste for beer
" Let's get out of here, head towards Port Augusta. We got paid"
Again, her proposal to move met with resistance
Claim of being broke prevailed, " You're a skank meddling whore"
Fred staggeringly asserted one feverish night in cramped caravan
It was nine or ten pm, but what did time matter?
Life at a stand still was anything but fun
Fred's punch met her nose, Sigrid's blood splattered
After several stunned minutes, she knew she had to run
Numb, skeleton soul stood by star lit highway beside bulging suitcase
Nobody came to check on her. Sigrid's fate left in her hands
Amazingly, swollen faced thumb thrusting girl granted a ride
Amicable truckie heading to Adelaide pulled her suitcase aboard
His charitable kindness insisted to a barely responsive teenager
She stay at his house, where he lived with wife and ten year old
A bed of her own, imminent nights devoid of alcohol's influence
Was respite achingly sought, her deserved Independence Day
- Took place in 1997.
Names unchanged
My six verse poem, Bi Folding Doors,
Written on PSoup a few months ago
is a brief continuation from this point
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