Walk Three

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Wokalup Tavern

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.