D.S. Maolalai
No-one's seen anyone lately.
walking with jack;
just the two of us
around the perimeter
of the wide phoenix park.
we like trading our weeks
on the weekend together –
hungry for gossip
and somewhat bereft
because no-one, of course,
has seen anyone lately –
and there's really quite little
to share. I tell him the story
of a car I'm considering
buying – this 3rd
hand convertible, old
cracking brick sun-
set red. "chrys doesn't want it,"
I tell him in confidence;
"but then, she's not paying –
and I want a car
I can drive in,
you know what I mean? some-
thing to push down
and pull against gravity.
something that moves
where I move it." he agrees
with my girlfriend – convertible
a stupid decision –
it rains here so often
and where would I go?
says to get on with going
to somewhere. I tell him
“I guess” and shut up.
we move on, meet in passing
his recent ex-girlfriend.
he's not tongue-tied
at all. does most
of the talking.
