Chatham Ave
I walked down the track
in the afternoon
ten years of memories
cut in too soon.
I started to sweat,
I had no room,
and overhead
a sonic boom.
It’s far too early
to ask the moon
just what the fu*k
am I doing here.
We reminisce
a thousand times
of drinking, swimming,
blowing minds.
Meeting people,
friendships bind
sitting under
those massive pines.
Contemplating,
rehearsing lines
but can’t you see
I don’t want this?
Sure, I remember
the early days,
the barbecues,
the summer haze,
the rising tides
in mangrove bays -
constant laughter
and bloodshot gaze,
but I tell myself it
was just a phase...
and at thirty-three
I’m beyond that.
Written: 1993
———
At the end of Chatham Ave lies a public reserve
or park on the shores of the upper Waitemata
Harbour in Paremoremo, just north of Auckland
in New Zealand. A time and place of no return.
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