Forgive me child, now a man

with each of us sitting on our sides

of this car, feeling the world speed

by with its yellow fields

never naming anything

not even laughing at Calder Park

or Bob Jane’s face or Sunbury.
I am sorry it has come to this

speechless highway thrum.
Here, you used to ask

about how can a grey line

in the atmosphere

split the blue sky in half.
But you’ve just spent most of a sweet song

trying to connect your phone to Bluetooth

and didn’t say a word to me

when I said

it’s worth taking this tune in.

But it’s just Islands in the Stream

is all you said, never looking up from your screen. 
You used to say things about people

we passed on the road

like what they did

or how fast can we leave them behind.
Now you’re wordless

eating a banana

because that is the only fruit

you’ve ever liked to eat.

You seem to eat it and forget to breathe.
Did you know I know everything

you have ever eaten?
And you eat everything so angry now

and I feel so sorry it has come to this
you knowing what I will say

to everything you mention
knowing when you reach to turn

the radio back to golden oldies

I’m going to say

I hate Billy Joel.
Meanwhile the banana

in your hand looks so good.

All I want for you is to look

down at it and take it in

perhaps smell it, follow its lines

do what we all do with good fruit.
Your stare now is so solid

as the banana browns

in the air conditioning. 
And it’s the banana

so strong fleshed but bruising

that gets me –

just bring it to your lips

and before biting

just hold it there

let it touch you.