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My bro’s are over from WA
for the Tawa College reunion.
Flash hire car, flash motel.
We drink and we drink. It’s all good.
Mining pays well. There’s work on they say.
I tell them about my poetry
the slow process of writing
of looking for inspiration.
I hand them a folio of poems,
ones about Raro, Niue, family stuff.
Show them a couple they might like,
leave the table so I won’t hover.
Hearing words I turn back from the bench
one is shaking his head, tapping a photo
on the back of the paper the other holds up.
‘Did those fuckin’ Warriors lose again?’
‘Who’d they play?’