Oh Wellington
I thought
thee art Bexity
in those ten days of my second coming
wellington
thy words have fallen into a green ocean where ducks float to the edge
I was chased out of here (before) by
cat poo and creaking floors
after a samoan
intercity handy night
I ran pacific shaken as birds flew
billed to the edge like everyone else from Lyall bay taxied for $35
As I stand here and wonder what
happened to emma’s
crying blue eyes I chase
Tepapapa’s
million portraits and victoria’s
nursing shadows from a dusty bagpackers
To
nomadic heights. I chase distant 18th century lanterns
over the oriental bay
Dan climbed faster than me as I spoke
to the cute nurse. Oh! I love cute nurses like I love librarians and old
castles and Anglican churches and graveyards
Day one was when we had Indian curry on
cuba street
and saw panaromic views of
the city and tried apologizing to old flatmates
but the bitch was a fat piece of crap at the edge of northland ready to fall in
her rotting wood like a insect with juicy breasts
Then came day two (technically day
four) but who wants to know about my first trip anyway?
I thought lower hutt was a beach and upper hutt where the rich lived not graffiti brats trying
to be black
Nor orange airport bus drivers that
hated life and living things and I swung on kid’s swings and slid down
The slide that faced the sea and Circa’s
Linda who thought American Pilot must be watched.
Was watched
Next day after what happens in vegas and
wheat juice as I bunked with 5 girls how lucky can backpackers get
Day three is when the only guy left and
the English snore girl left but the American and German cunt
And the nice pommy girls remained. I hated the german and found the anarchist
internet place
And without feeding the pigeons went up
the cable car and saw Island bay and Khandalla
and Mt. Victoria
Where a Chinese bus driver told me that
the city was egalitarian and the lights were real. Not Mission
bay
I thought
I had eaten my samosas and discussed women with downtown backpacker
guys and devoured kachori
And ate English hot cauliflower curry
what an error who’d think pommies
liked it hotter than frozen meat
The university gave me my wind cheater
jacket that can make you sweat but next day I cross cook strait
The grey morning got into stunning
sounds after hearing arctic stories and weed-ridden heart break song
The wind could blow
you
far
away
A library and friendly $2 museum and
the dutch
that cycled two islands to save africa’s children
And then I met hannah and of course Melonee…princess Taurus Melanie
like bex only few days
apart and what lovely women eternal and thus I saw Te Papa. Oh my god Tepapa made my life a work of art
and pictures kissed my soul and city’s traffic lights in oil and tram and red
post box made me breath but
Melanie left as I explored caves downstairs and stuff the birds who gives a
dime
And slept through the arvo after a hot feast and
Paddington Coat Factory’s lovely long jacket held Melanie as we smiled should
we have kissed?
The kiwi bargain hunting second hand wedding packed dan to palmy and I loved kapiti bay and how Saturdays were times when you got
a few deals.
Melanie and I were awkward again and
she spend time with her lot
and packed her bags with a ferocious noise and I was lost.
Found in empathy by Bex
And
the city gallery and the art gallery but Bex essentially Bex.
Connections from another world and I know…I was there.
But buses did not come through and taupo was lost and like Indiana
Jones I could not revive my first day at burger King and the second hand book
shop that had the most amazing legs on display
And the 7th day when Borders
looked bigger than a library and friendlier than a autumn coloured
yellow red maple leaves behind the bee hive and embassies
Bex
went home and Melanie was gone and all these people that we knew from last life
did not give a damn or pretended they did not understand
Dan left for Melbourne
He wanted to be worthy of the city
And return to Wellington
I met Kelly’s services and rested
And thought of all these that came from
nowhere like sharks at Mangonui
Tried the satay roti
paratha
A Singaporean delicacy that originated
in India
I ditched telecom and all my telecom
friends and called them fat and ugly
And in the pouring rains went into bird
sanctuary and future flatmates
windswept homes and cold Wellington
rivers as robins did their
things and Americans dropped me to botanical gardens
As an angry driver gave me hell
I won a sipper in the mall
And 20 push-ups later
A giant drink
I had enough.
Tomorrow I leave.
This was Bex’s city
And I will return and the sun came out
But everything else was dark for now.
Oh wellington you have been kind to me tonight.
