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