A Snippet Poem by Hunter James

The day was clear, a slight breeze blew in through the window as we drove down the mountain road. The sea was an aqua blue, it was terrifically perfect though so vague. Small villages passed as we got deeper and deeper into the beachside national park. I wondered if it was still national park by this stage, though I was feeling wonderfully sedated despite the in dooming loneliness that filled the car. My dad spoke.
' This song is excellent, the riff is done exactly how I would of done it, so precise'
I nod.
An alternative instrumental was playing on the radio, one of the few good songs on a horrible Sunday radio show. My dad saw music in colour , clarity and precision. A true musician who couldn’t play music. We drove on, finding ourselves further and further from the dim comfort of pie shops and playgrounds.
Despite the occasional murmur about the radio, we didn’t talk. Though we found comfort in the stillness of the air, the gaps in sound were filled with the thick silence of the woods which were now growing denser and denser. The gravel turned to dirt and the sky was now a thick tangle of green and brown. I was growing sleepy.
My Dads right arm was propped on the window pane, his other clutched the wheel, his fingers gently tapping the rubber in rhythm. His eyes were set on the road ahead of him though it was evident something else occupied them. He spoke.
' What you got to, uh understand is, your mother and I are growing increasingly worried with your sense of consequence, it seems to be uh, fairly non existent.'
My dad was a confident man with a strong speech though when he tried to bring up such topics with me he always stammered. A ray of light weaved its way into heavy canopy temporarily reminding me of the world outside the national park.