we set out early with coffee no music the speakers dismantled weeks ago
from the back seat she says ‘take the western ring road’ we bypass the city
the bridge to the west and begin the long straight road to Geelong
cut across flat brown fields petrol stations industrial satellite towns
close to the city the traffic slows we pull up behind surf boards and bicycles
attached like Christmas decorations to giant four wheel drives
pass the church and its steeples veer to the left and out to the coast
here it unwinds from my passenger seat like a sand coloured ribbon
the water impossibly blue the lighthouse long stretches of coast and scrub
through to Lorne pulsing with people and sun block we stop for lunch
walk the length of the pier young kids daring jumping twisting off the side
turn back past surfers by the side of the road I sleep and wake later
on the Westgate bridge my shirt stuck to the seat the seat to my back
my back to the road