Eyes At Isa - Paul Dobbyn Poetry

Happiness Mount Isa Style

“Happiness is seeing Mount Isa
in the rear view mirror”
the tatty t-shirt read,
and who could disagree?

For weeks our lungs had
sucked the copper-process fumes
which dewed sulphuric acid
each time the plants were hosed.

Our brains had baked
under a merciless sun
which sapped the wellsprings
of our motivation’s juice.

Heat turned booze to currency:
“North-West Star - world of news
for half the price of a beer”
one fridge sticker read.

And the dogs!
“Unpredictable Rottweiler resides”
some literate lout had written
to explain why his mutt had bitten.

Now here it was -
The Isa retreating in a
convoy of rear view mirrors -
2.30 am, a throbbing glow
of energy and heat.

And us, departing too
like those unminding miners -
careless spending the hard won,
irretrievable gold of our
rocky young lives…

Yep, we'd mined our golden trail:
Die-hard dirt diggers searching,
searching till we gleaned the mother lode;
437 machines sold in a dozen days -
a new Electrolux record struck.

Swapping our time
for a swag of sales,
never-ending bag of tales -
delirium of days departing
fast as smoke stack’s fleeting flash...