Auckland Poetry

Fragile Warriors

Under the glass counter an army of soft drinks dressed
in green, yellow and navy blue, stood facing a smaller,
but more potent army of bottled beer.

In the corner, looking splendid and golden topped,
a few bottles of alcohol-free lager stood somewhat
hesitant, didn’t quite know which army to join being
met with contempt by both sides.

A giant, pale blue one litre bottle of water that could
quench anyone’s thirst a hot summer’s day, suggested
the Alcohol-free should be arbiters if it came
to war; this gave the hybrids a sense of purpose and they
glowed in self importance under fluorescent light.

Not that anyone takes note of what peacemakers say, till
it’s a stall-mate and armies need a break to rearm and
enlist more non-returnable

Thirsty Cars

Those steep, tiring hills going home, I had been in town
bought a new kitchen sink, the second one in forty years,
nothing lasts, that’s how traders make their ill-gotten
gains. My car was exhausted trailing smoke, to lighten
its burden I alighted walked in front as it followed me
slowly. On a flat stretch it teasingly overtook and drove
in front of me and down a track into a deep ravine where
feral donkeys live and run unlicensed garages I wasn’t in
the mood to play “follow the leader,” so I walked home
past wayside bars where cars guzzled Brazilian sugar cane
alcohol, and played with their indicators, I ignored this
depravity and hasted away. Midnight, when my car pulled
up outside, it had lost the kitchen-sink and was splattered
in manure of the long eared members of the horse family.

Mysterious is Love.

At the supermarket today I fell in love again. I was standing
there, by the frozen fish, when I looked up and saw her by
the fruit section, weighing a bunch of bananas in her hands;
she sent me a brilliant smiled and I fell instantly in love with
my own image. I thought of Josephine Baker, the famous
dancer, and the mysterious triangle in the Caribbean where
ships and planes suddenly disappears and never seen again.

To be sure her smiled was meant for me, I turned and looked
behind me; a row of milks, on cooling shelves, strawberry,
banana, chocolate, vanilla, melon, apple, blueberry and,
ordinary white milk, a rainbow coalition of milks, all from
the same cud chewing ruminant. Looked back at her, she was
moving away from me, picking up a bottle of washing up liquid;
now an ordinary housewife in need of a perm.