Aside from the tale, well told from that perspective, I'm once again reminded that it's only in Oz that Ive seen such cans...
Doug
On 2013-01-22, at 2:43 PM, Patrick McManus <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Bloodthirsty?
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
> Behalf Of Bill Wootton
> Sent: 22 January 2013 21:25
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: Re: Publicly transported snap
>
> ... or just thirsty, Snowy P?
>
> Dry B
>
> On 23/01/2013, at 7:51 AM, Patrick McManus <[log in to unmask]>
> wrote:
>
>> Sounds like one of my Oz great nieces - was she a poet actually ??
>>
>> -----Original Message-----
>> From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]]
>> On Behalf Of Bill Wootton
>> Sent: 22 January 2013 20:08
>> To: [log in to unmask]
>> Subject: Publicly transported snap
>>
>> Publicly transported
>>
>> She swung on to the Smith Street tram with a can of Jack Daniels and
>> Coke clenched in her teeth; bulky bag in each hand, slouched to a
>> seat. Hot.
>>
>> Opposite her, a neat-collared man who was not about to accept this
>> affront sitting down, must have muttered his immediate disdain.
>>
>> The girl's blank smile snapped from her face and the main show began.
>> 'What's it to you, you old fuck?' voice gathering volume.
>>
>> No way out now, he must have given her, sotto voce, more grist to work
>> with. 'Hey!
>> Did you hear that?' she challenged us all.
>>
>> 'He said he was going to hit me. I'll have you charged, mate!' Her
>> right index finger arced down at him, left hand with clasped can
>> hovering,
>>
>> the effect like a bird of prey with wings lifting, prior to ascent.
>> 'You heard him,' she flashed round to the hapless tram driver,
>>
>> cringing in his closed cubicle, from where he had attempted placatory
>> words and gestures but had only upped the anger ante. Next stop,
>>
>> an old lady hobbled on with walking stick.
>> Mister Jones loomed to his feet, offering his seat. Time for a
>> regenerative can slurp.
>>
>> 'Watch out for this fucker ... ah sorry lady, for language ... but he
>> threatened me.'
>> A distinct word now carries from Standing Man:
>>
>> 'Uncivilised.' A wispy-bearded young Malaysian opposite me hazards a
>> grin. I don't return it.
>> Other passengers shift sweatily in their seats.
>>
>> Her flick knife is out and up, blade waving under the man's nose
>> before anyone can react, even if they had the daring to do so.
>>
>> Collared Man stands on but understands now what he's bought into.
>> Edges off at the next stop. Victoria Parade. Away. But no -
>>
>> she's following him off. 'Ya bald, fat fuck!' Her skimpy top rises as
>> she clambers down, exposing a thin, sun-denied midriff, lightly
>> bruised. Bing!
>>
>> The tram shoves off, bound for Bourke Street and beyond. I turn but
>> already the two have been swallowed in milling Melbourne pedestrians.
>>
>> Bill Wootton
>>
>
Douglas Barbour
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