|
Oban
1
highland town
breeze catching sails and kilts
freeze framing a red headed one year old
asleep in a v dub van
no house, home, job you say
just us three on the road
making memories
not locked into mortgages or
menopause we take
open roadways
now celluloid eyes
expand images trapped under plastic
watch travellers on suburban roam
feeling wet tar ooze under feet
what once fitted snugly
in one Mac pack bulges into every room
like the long lost six pack
that struggles to find your waist
waste no time heading south
there’s more than one island
and more to the view
than Auck-centric monocular
2
spiral back to Heriot Row
socks over shoes conquering black ice skids
that take you to the Bowling Green
don’t go down the hill in a wheelie bin
run barefoot round the Octagon
it’s any shape you want it now
wash your hands a hundred times
always the smell of formalin
every line etched over time
got you here
dis-articulated limbs
teaching a dependable anatomy
trace every vein
to find a mule route in the Catlins
learn a little more
about where you‘re from
and where the writing began
Auckland,
April 2006
|
