Indiana Jones at the Ogygia Hotel

Away from the gleam of winter stars, Calypso shed her belt of seal's teeth, pelican feathers and sea shells.
Beneath the gleam of winter stars - a motel line with its tethered ponies; red and blue, racing car green, Ramblers, Hornets, Monaros ... Long muscle. Short muscle.

"Take off my dress."
"You take it off."
"Take off my dress."
"I want to watch you."

So she takes off her dress.
She minds the wounds of this Indiana Jones of the taxation world. He'd washed up on her shores, bruised and battered from nine days of scotch on the rocks. She checked his star sign and she licked him well again.

"I am an important man!" He told her. "I'm meeting with Rudd come the morn!"

Outside, her sea crow clattered on the tin roof with impatient, flat feet. Sea stormed the shore.

Inside it was warm and he was ready for her.

A cold bleep at five in the morning. He dressed and patted himself down.
"Stay with me," she said.
"There's Rudd. Today. A plane to Melbourne."
"So build a raft." (And then we'll have some breakfast.)
The drive. The flight, he says.
He pines.
She stays.