Groceries flung into
hungry backs of Mitsubishi 4 wheelers.
Arms tossing bags of
pronto pasta and
microwave dinners.
One foot holds trolley in place,
itself already running away.
That HiLux parked in haste, too close,
has flung open its doors,
threatening invasion.
It’s a shit-show.
I’m all anger, you’re all brazen.
We’ve had no lunch
No time.
No time.
No
Time.
What if instead,
we parked the trolley,
found my fresh bread,
you could grab the hummus from your HiLux.
We’d sit right here
on the curb,
under this flowering birch tree.
Let its whispering kiss us.
I might learn your name.
We’ll take back time and
bend it till it’s supple.
Let it sink down here beside the two of us
until it folds like silk
and you and I
are a moment of open, humming
stillness.
Robyn Restieaux
Auckland, NZ
