Auckland Poetry

The Transplant

I have a bus on which I drive tourists from the coast
to the inland and show them roman ruins and a bit an
ancient road that used to lead to Rome.

But I have been losing business to the competition,
when I tout for business it is that I look too gloomy,
like I don’t really want anyone on my bus.

I told this to my dentist Jerry, he’s an American and
as such eternally optimistic, he is also a part time
cosmetic surgeon and a planter of hair on bare heads

He was only going to whiten my front teeth but when
waking up I had blond nylon hair sewed into my scalp
a permanent smile and Hollywood teeth.

Now I look as Berluscone, the Italian prime minister,
passengers think I’m a comic; when I say: “we leave
at four, you silly people” tourists laugh think I’m funny.

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