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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Getting Somewhere


by Amaryllis Gacioppo





 

Sometimes we get in the car and drive for hours, collecting miles. We’ll go to the airport and contemplate hitching the next flight to somewhere else. We’ll cruise down George Street and count the sex shops and money lenders and Thai restaurants. Thai-phoon. Thai-tanic. Thai-natown. Thai me up. Thai-riffic. We’ll drive past Tamarama and I’ll stick my head out the window, my mouth open like a dog, tasting the salty air on my tongue. Past big houses jutting out on cliff faces, their windows alight like little fires and open to the crashing waves. The foam spatters on the rocks. My hair, curly from the sticky air. I never can get over the brazen violence of the sea wall, the rocks. I always imagine being tugged, tumbling underwater, dragging and spitting onto these rocks, teeth cracking into their own craggy bluff. We grab ice-cream bars from a petrol station and go back to the airport, watching low-flying planes swoop above our heads and guess at where they’re going, where they could take us.