Talking to a bloke named Pete. Who often parked across the street. Nice fellow, on hard times. Never contemplated crime. I have to admit he was not in his glory but prepared to listen he told me a story.
“Anticipation of an unscheduled stroll. It’s hard getting around on the dole. It’s not like the poor don’t drive, people get sick of friends bumming a ride.
Fuel gauge red light I see you lie, the distances you go under is quite high. Poor-dom led to earn this discovery. An unhelpful light for the K’s hoped in front of me.
So hello little fuel can light, shining brightly in the night. Just as yet you haven’t failed me, it’s not like petrol’s given free.
But if it was I’d drive all night hitting Brisbane at first light. Get a job and rent a house, and when I’m at my bloody pinnacle.. I’ll probably buy an electric vehicle.”
D. R. Reid - poetry 