by Rob McKinnon

After another long interstate haul
sleep deprived and head still swirling
dropping the empty truck into the depot
dodging potholes and new muddy puddles.

Checking scant bank balances
on a battered phone,
the fortnightly pay is short again.

Driving home through filthy town streets
passing the multistorey silo
covered with a mural of smiling children
who moved away long ago.

Parking in the junk crowded driveway
dirt on the car matched the baked dead garden
with only sparse weeds still struggling
soaked with piss and fresh shit
left by the neighbour’s dog.

Entering the house, turning on the cheap noisy fan
to mask the smelly stale silence
and move the smothering heat,
photos on the fridge flapping in the breeze
of images of a sunny sandy beach
with white breaking waves from blue cool water,
the cap of a cold drink popping as it is opened.

Starting before dawn the next day
falling asleep on the couch
in clothes infused with the stench of sweat
then dreaming of the sea far away.

Waking late in the evening
cicadas sing swaying in the warm wind
short weeks before their death.