Chet was there then, too
nestled in amongst those dark blue giants
hovered by lightest grey clouds
and held in the hands of the youngest man
I asked for him by name at Te Kainga
but I was the youngest girl, so
The Shins rang out instead
and that was okay, except
now they make me nostalgic
and are mandatory listening on South Island road trips
(just as The White Stripes were, briefly,
for a short while 'til Chet fixed it)
and so there’s something unnerving
about the unfinished house in this paddock
and the rolled joint sitting in your ear …
except you’re reading me a book and
cooking me a meatless meal.
