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Bumped into a Cheated Friend at Pak ‘n Save
His hair is dirty steel wool
forehead a tyre tread
his eyebrows ask me questions
eyes like fish bait angling for answers
I don’t have.
His nostrils flare at my sympathy.
Thin lips grip his mouth
around teeth that are hermits.
His skin is the beach at Dunkirk
a handshake scuttles back to
its pocket. Under a wrinkled shirt
and agitated chest, his lungs deflate.
He is a collapsing tower
his heart has already jumped.
Rob Hack began reading poetry, a lot, in 1997 and began writing poems. A year later, realising he needed help, he studied at Whitireia from 2006 to 2008 and the International Institute of Modern Letters in 2011. He’s involved in organising a monthly poetry show on Paekakariki 88.2 FM. His favourite meals are ika mata (raw fish), taro and chicken.