volunteers
gathered about smoking
their cigarettes
the tan Holden bored
out a sleeper
simple weave seats
the girls in their wide white
headbands like groupies
and mini's

the telly advising of a storm
the haze of weather hunched
like a mad dingo
the red band growling in the
dry air already steady and
rising..the flags snapping
on staff office poles
the grass parched...the reservoir
down..

everyone just milling about the
shoppes in town
talking of the farms hit hard
and mutton prices
sipping the cold stubbies in
their hand

further out beyond the break
the mad on their boards
braving sharks
pushing swell riding to dark
the fingers spinning in the
flat face of the pipe
the fires ashore with all
the mates and birds waiting
the beer on ice..
the super weed for chilling
ah mate
Lifes a beach
everyone wants to catch
the growlers....

timothy served
in sixty eight
he was the king
how he could ride
but he lost it
stepped in front of
a freight

we drove to the back
and beyond
until we didnt know
each other anymore
until the haze of the fires
and storms clung to our
hearts like a stubborn
stain

buddy we meant well
but we were torn

and the Holden

we drove by it hauled
home
tried to overtake a train
on the flats
he swerved to save
the family in a small Fiat

our hearts torn asunder
by the heros we lose
like flaming wrecks

it just is what it is
you tip a few
and remember
the great gamble
and life hanging over
like the big blue

and you dig in
and survive

you just do

..