Sunday, November 4, 2012

A blokey weekend.

A swagger of utes thunder past, kicking up swirls of fine smelly dust.
Rear trays are shrouded in camouflage green canopies concealing -
who knows what?

Too muscular to be contained by any flimsy cabin,
bulging tattooed forearms rest on dusty door-frames,
languidly rise and wave a cheery hello, at odds with their physical menace.

Bringing up the rear of the rumbling group,
his ute surely unroadworthy with rusty holes and massive dints;
is a lone driver - unsmiling - 'don't mess with me, I mean business'.
The open tray contains a single, reinforced steel cage
barely contains two enormous wild-eyed, salivating, hunting dogs.

A moulding stiff legged deer at the side of the road
is evidence of an earlier successful expedition. 
Not all utes survive the hunting trip.

No comments: