As I sit upon Wellington way
A winding pathway fragments itself into steps below
Its birch railing blocking the sparrow’s sprint
I sit upon a perch
Looking over Wellington
The lazy streets idle of dynamo
Just cars cruising upon the lopsided terrain
Through a town devoid of energy
The electricity lines run up and over houses
Like straps on overalls
Dressing the whitewashed walls and corrugated roofs
The lampposts they attach themselves to look tired
Like they’ve worked a 60 hour week
Which I suppose they have
A young tabby bolts up the steps and hyperextends its quarters to look at me fearfully
Studying the lines of my face
Calculating whether I am friend or foe
Perhaps I’m both
Its tail has a hare-like white tip at the end
As if it’s been dipped in paint
It brushes the ground beneath it and the air above it
It slithers its way across the road
Only to be met by the dog
They both don’t seem to be mutually acquainted
No doubt as the sun rears its head over the lone pine tree in the garden
The city will burst into life
Musicals will erupt from the manholes and the back decks of the otherwise silent abodes
The crushing weight of capital city pressure will infuse the streets and spark them with lecherous flame
But until that time
I’ll be here
Watching the city as it sleeps idly before me
Not wanting to poke the bear
Reid Edmond
Dunedin, NZ
