I’m kipping behind the wheel when someone knocks on the glass saying all right mate? out of juice? and I’m wading in molasses and he’s one of those holograms and I tell him not to worry I’ll go for fuel in the morning and he’s saying bit of a walk, mate, you’re twenty clicks from Borden and I’m saying no problem I’ll take the draft horse and then he’s all what day is it? and where do you live? and who’s the Prime Minister? and all I know is I had a notion and it vanished so I close my eyes but it’s mud in there and now he’s got the back open where Jilly’s listing like a star picket and I say careful, my sheep dog’s part Alsatian but Jilly just gives him a paw and he says hey girl, show us your collar and then he’s talking to the night saying four hours south on a back road and pretty confused and no worries at all and Gordon? I’ll take you and the poodle back to the city old man and I’m saying thanks but we’re shearing and he’s feeding Jilly water from his cupped hand saying your wife said you might think that, you know she’s beside herself, they’re out scouring the streets and I’m saying wife? and I’m watching the canola glowing yellow under the smudged moon and I’m thinking home stretch and I’m seeing the ringlock fence gleaming, carving a line to the old country where the fog’s gone and the white noise is gone and maybe one little creek will run clear.
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