Authors: Steven Herrick
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Sometimes
before my McDonald's shift,
I pack my bag
with food âÂ
bread, cheese,
some fruit âÂ
for Billy.
Enough for Billy
but not enough
for my parents
to get suspicious.
At first
Billy said, âNo, no way',
but I reminded him
of our house,
âthe richest house in Bendarat',
he'd said.
He took the food,
promising to share it
with Old Bill.
Billy, dancing
I spent $5 on candles,
two dozen candles
,
and I worked all day
looking for tins
and scraps of metal
and discarded old mugs
,
anything to stand a candle in.
As evening comes
I light
each candle
let the wax drop onto the tin
and stand the candle
firm in its wax,
and soon enough
I have twenty-four candles
b
urning in my carriage
and each throws a dancing shadow
on
the walls
and the windows covered
with cardboard.
I shake
my sleeping bag
and spread it neatly
across t
he bench seat
and I sweep the floor
and push my bag
under the seat
and I wait for Caitlin
t
o walk into
the brilliant soft l
ight
of twenty-four candles
dancing for her.
Heaven
It was like stepping
into heaven,
all that light,
with Billy smiling
on the seat,
proud of what he'd created.
As I stepped
into the carriage
I closed the door
to everything,
and I went to Billy
as if we'd been
doing this for years
and the candles
burned long and gentle
as we lay together
for hours.
What can I say?
It was like stepping
into heaven,
no less than perfect.
The clink of the bottles
I saw Billy
kissing his girl Caitlin
on the train tracks
as they walked off.
Billy returned an hour later
and came to my carriage.
We sat opposite, talking.
I heard the bottles clink
in his bag
and said,
âCome on then,
let's have them'.
But when he brought out
the ginger beer
I swore
and laughed
and swore some more,
but really
you've got to admire the kid.
So I drank the stuff
and we sat up late
talking
and I slept
better than I had in a long time
so maybe
just maybe
I'll work on less beer
for a while.
For the kid's sake.
Old Bill and this town
I wake early,
I eat properly,
for breakfast at least,
and I've taken to walking
every day.
I go to the river with Billy
and we swim and wash,
or sometimes
I walk the streets
looking at the houses
and the corner shops
and the parks with trees
and fountains,
and young couples kissing,
and old men reading newspapers,
and ladies walking dogs,
and sometimes
these people nod and say hello
as though I'm one of them
and not an old drunk.
I nod back,
even talk about the weather on occasions,
and I walk back to my carriage
planning
where I'll go tomorrow,
where I'll walk in my town
where I'll go to stop
thinking about the drink.
Nothing's easy
âNothing's easy.'
That's what Billy said
when I told him about my walks
and how I pass a pub
and my hands start shaking
and it would only take
a few steps
to be at the bar
ordering a pint â¦
And the young kid,
sharp as a tack,
says,
âDon't walk near a pub then'.
We looked at each other
and I said,
âNothing's easy'.
Closing in
Bloody cops.
I hate to lie.
I hate it,
but with two of them
on Main Street
asking me questions,
questions I couldn't answer
honestly,
I made up what I could.
I said I was passing through,
I was staying with a friend,
I'd been working at the cannery
and now I was heading west.
I said I was eighteen,
old enough to look after myself.
They didn't believe a word,
I could tell,
but I hadn't done anything wrong,
and the older cop,
he was smart,
he knew what to do.
He gave me a card,
Department of Community Services
Welfare Of
ficer: Brent Stevens.
He said he'd meet me
at the office tomorrow
at four o'clock
and if I didn't show
well, fine, I'd moved on,
but if he saw me
in town again
and I hadn't shown,
he'd ask more questions,
and this time
he'd want some answers.
Bloody cops.
Bloody welfare.
I walked home
to the Bendarat Hilton
and I lay in bed
with the old carriage walls
closing in.
Old Bill's long walk
Today
I walked past
Jessie's old school.
It's had a paint job,
and they've built a new library.
It was lunchtime
and the children were outside.
The big kids were
playing cricket on the oval.
The young children
played in the sandpit.
A few girls were sitting
and talking under a tree.
As I walked by
one of the girls
started to climb the tree.
I was about to say something
when a young teacher
came over:
âSarah, no climbing trees'.
The teacher smiled at me
and walked back to
the shade of the school veranda.
I could feel my hands
shaking
as I walked back to town.
I walked the long way,
careful not to go past a pub.