Here Come the Dogs by Omar Musa Page B

two hands.
    I peel the red up
    and the white down.
    And now the consuming danger,
    the fierceness of summer
    riding on our shoulders,
    my thumbs on her ankles,
    the minutes trickling down our backs
    and her black hair.
    I stare at the long, trembling dusk
    as I lick a bead of sweat from the side of her face.

    â€˜Wanna meet up tomorrow?’
    â€˜Don’t get ahead of yourself, mister.’

    She’s become cool again,
    almost professional,
    but the danger is still hot on my body.

    She kisses me quickly.

    â€˜Seeya soon, mama’s boy.’

    An argument with Georgie

    She just called the Samoan guy at the petrol station ‘bro’.

    No way.

    â€˜Can you not say that, Georgie. It’s fucken annoying.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Bro.’
    â€˜Bro,’ she mimics back.
    â€˜Seriously.’
    â€˜Why not? You say it all the time.’
    â€˜I’m a dude. It sounds ugly when a chick says it.’
    â€˜Solomon, that’s ridiculous.’
    â€˜I’m just saying. Doesn’t sound right. That’s a guy’s word.’
    â€˜I’ll stop saying it if you do.’ Her lips set.
    â€˜Fuck that.’
    â€˜You’re a pig.’
    â€˜Oh, yeh?’
    â€˜And an egomaniac.’
    â€˜That all?’

    We walk in silence.

    Of course that’s not all.

    I clear my throat. ‘Hey, Georgie. You realise that no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be one of us.’
    â€˜One of the boys? Wouldn’t wanna be.’
    â€˜Nah. You know what I mean.’ I cough. ‘Ethnic.’
    â€˜Why are you saying this, Solomon?’ Her voice is shaking. My mind is perfectly clear.
    â€˜Just letting you know. No matter how many politics courses you take, how much yoga you do, how many fucken Buddhist scrolls you hang in your room – you will never be.’ I snort coldly. ‘I know how you girls think. And I’ll let you in on another secret: no matter how many times you fuck me, you’ll always be white. I’m not gonna fuck some colour into ya and I’m not gonna fuck that white guilt outta ya. You will never be anything but what you are.’

    She’s crying now.

    That felt brilliant.

13

    In Woolworths, Jimmy grabs a tin of coffee before heading to the wall of fridges lined with frozen dinners. Maybe lasagne tomorrow night. There is something about all the packets stacked up in supermarkets that he likes. In petrol stations, too. All the brightly coloured boxes, piled high and deep – the gaudiness, the abundance of it. You’re in charge, browsing where you like, and it’s all on display for your pleasure. Take what you want.
    When he closes the fridge door, he turns and catches a glimpse of the girl from the travel agency, Hailee, walking up the aisle with a basket. He keeps his head down and watches out of the corner of his eye as she stands in front of the rows of pasta. When she moves on, Jimmy glides to the head of the next aisle and watches her as she chooses some rice. She’s in running pants and her hair is pulled back, and Jimmy can see what look like simple diamond studs in her ears. He can just make out a tattoo on the back of her neck – a coathanger? He shadows her again as she moves on to the deli. As he hovers by the cold shelves of fresh meat, she seems to look right at him, but offers no flicker of recognition. He pretends to be looking at Christmas crackers.
    Jimmy keeps pace with her through the checkouts and follows her out, passing between parked cars at a remove, hoping she didn’t drive.When she walks out of the carpark and across the road, he keeps close to a hedge. They pass Centrelink, then the Jade Palace Chinese restaurant with its oily smoke. The day is darkening all around and shadows drape on everything. Headlights swing through the streets and Jimmy inhales the smell of dry grass.
    She lives in a quiet street in a house dressed with bougainvillea. A birdbath