asha, you're a believer of revolution. myself,
i waver between the fundamentals of reason
telling me there's no use in change, that what we do
is ropey silence, smeared brie on wholemeal
quickly shared and messily eaten.
there, we fused hips, joined and seasoned with cloves
and unspoken sin. your eyes spoke of light and firm desire
which i had no answer for. not right then.
not when others dared to intrude
upon our tranquil strife.
i looked up at the moon that night, saw mars within
its penumbra: a smaller twin, hovering near its belly.
that's the only revolution i'll truly believe:
that of constant spinning, that of the push and pull
of planets and moons in cyclic fusion.
tell me i'm another fool looking to the heavens for guidance.
tell me i don't need to be told this over and under again.
and later, i walked back, up ariki road and along great north.
down potatau and left onto home. i felt cloudy and oppressed.
i felt i had to drown in uncaring city noise.
at 3 a.m. there's no relief when awake and needing ocean.
the pavement calls. i walk. i dream and mutter poems.
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Submission Name: williamson ave, saturday night
