Roaming the wasted land of central Auckland
up and down the alleyways the street hills
meaningless building sites now deserts
the empty businesses that used to be landmarks
now impossible shells around the corner building the
sold out towers of grime all that investment may fall apart
in reasonable time its part of the luck its blessed with
the reasonable suspicion of the citizens
the unbelieving glances off sidewalks
blue and clean 38 million hewn from
a sacred mountain and now underfoot
peddled off in small doses
stone floor riddled with foot prints
the begging shops with their wares
this lot must go as
we have another shipment
already coming in and
the bankers building the towers
are hoping for another summer
for local builders but an offshore Goliath
all dressed in silk ties and smiles
takes all in handshakes brewed in briefcases
infection of confidence spending big on the structure
then compel the tenants to enjoy the hours of
waiting for a customer who’s turn is it anyway
walk through this land where cars are considered
the enemy and its pedestrians rush through hoping
to get him for the six o’clock news