night racing
night racing through the suburbs
of white stucco dreaming
the menacing glow of the city’s tainted body behind us
as the custodians of the estate domiciles
spy through the holes in their lace curtains
at the howl of our twin-cam war party
drowning out the dying heartbeat of this captured landscape
our small bodies shivering a techno pulse
hugging into corners
accelerating onto the straights
a growling junkyard dingo under the bonnet,
the beast made up from parts here and there
born for the walkabout rally
black feet pumping racing pedal to floor
breaking the silence of the settlers’ sacred sites
enveloped in shadows when not haunted by the silhouettes of urban myth
mind navigation into the bitumen labyrinth
these areas we treat with the same contempt as laid upon us
as middle-class Australia prepares for another evening
darkness and the dreaming of jaywalkers and nightstalkers
yes, it cradles us too
like the Earth Mother did the warriors of old
but we’re too scared to look behind us or in the rear-view mirror
to catch a wink from Voodoojack
and his perpetual black grin