bath

Having opened my solar centre; all the world's vagrants trudge up to my footsteps. They tell me stories of The Modern Ice Age. A real tragedy, whereby your eyes freeze over from blocked-up roots.

The vagrants come hurtling at me as soon as I am off the carpet. They stubb their toes along the rusty asphalt. This is to make sure they can find their way home. And all the everyones who don't care can CSI the clues. I have howled as loudly as this woman hurricaning along Bath St. -- but never as publicly as her. Her head has been raped by the world's cleanliness. And her father, she claims.

"I'm not sure I understand," I say. "Are you okay?" Though of course I understand when she says to me plainly:

"I just need to walk across town. I'll be ok."

I understand.

"O.K.."

You'll be ok.

So into my car I re-close. My bumper-fucked Volkswagon. Having opened enough for one day (but still, a part unable to shut within the 12-hour)...

So that I am salt-wounded in my car. In the office. On the bus. In the theatre. The flood will not subside until the shit has been rushed aside. Thought tsunami. Intellectual ache and skinferiority. This Pakeha thinking to herself, I would love to be within these arms that whisper Te Reo. I would love to be woken by the world's karanga each morning. 

And when he replies, "Kei te pai," my elsewhere head autos, "Pardon?"

"I'm good, thanks," he says.

I come back to the floor. "You said, 'kei te pai'". A child in realisation.

"Ae," he says. "I did."

We both smile sadly. I think about the woman on Bath St.