Grga Pitic: "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Nambawan!

The Aboriginal on Magnetic Island


He threw out his hand and his name
as he joined me under the canopy of the Strangler Fig.
I shook his hand, catching an alcoholic breeze,
but not his name,
delivered in a slur.

I’d come to relax and read
and watch ships from the mainland,
feeding the island with Full Moon party people.
I was tired, he could see, but declined
when he offered a bed, and a beer, and company.

A wealth of expressions and time
cut countless lines and discontent into an aged face.
Presenting now, his vintage frown,
he told of the war of the western world
against his forgotten race.

I heard one word in five at best;
“high society,” “judgemental” then his offer again,
I declined and left, but he followed and said
“I trust you, so want to show you something.”
I’ll never know what it was.

He called after me, the gap between us growing:
“Do me a favour when you get back to England!”
and I was out of range of hearing.

Later, the party dissolved thin walls
and I weaved in and out of sleep,
but gratefully.

  Vesuvius Jan 20, 2014 8:35 AM