The headlights shine to the left.
I follow two red dots.
A small stone cracks the windscreen.
In Pinjarra I give an ETA
And recall riding, riding, riding
Back when I had to run.
Inside she is behind the front wall.
She senses in me her own
Disappointment, I’m undatable
Were her words, before she deleted
What little of us we had.
I’m not sure what she thought
I was looking for, as two bowls
Of half eaten salad sat between us,
But what I saw were these eyes
And inside was a fire trying
To extinguish itself, a light
More intense than I’ve ever witnessed
A colour colliding, shattered
And slaughtered by red
That stuck across her iris
And bit deep into her pupils
That said she was barely able to cope;
That her illness didn’t care
For my sympathy and that soon
She would have to leave.