Touch
Rachael Smart
i) The summer that puts a stop to Touch, Touch is all she can think about.
ii) The homeless guy’s weather-beaten hand when he nips the fiver from her fingers, who tells her she looks the s**t in red.
iii) The cuff of the landlord’s high five during a lock-in where she dances to T’Pau, puts her lips to so much volume.
iv) The afternoon she takes her dad for his biopsy and coughs violently over the steering wheel with him looking diminished beside her. How he tells her she gets her lungs from her old man. The way she squeezes his beef of a hand in the waiting room, feeds him coffee from her corrugated cup.
v) The man she Touches down by the black water after too many beers and too much poetry. Her spit thick on his face, hands deep in the muddle of her hair. The two
