A perfect day

A missed alarm - A hurried departure From home to bus to bus - To craft fair! All handmade, all ingenious. And reused items appeal to this sustainability-freak. "There's not much for your kind here" But just as I say it we spy a stall And the goth finds Cthulu, A skull, An eye, A snake with which to adorn himself Amidst the usual background of 'Oh, he looks like Russell brand' His cousin was riding. Riding the plastic spastic twirl-around bull. "Another turn? Go on, your dad didn't see you!" She shakes her head, almost shy But is lifted and hoisted on once more, Smiling and giggling and kicking away. The operator has success, Short-lived; She jumps right off and back to her father, Uncles and cousins all grin. - To cafe! Entrance a ramp, The outside already proclaims the spaces brilliance Narrow hall with piano stating 'closed' Walls adorned with old newspapers Light fixtures are bottles Door handle a coffee grinder Tables old school desks, Mismatched chairs and couches and plates; This sustainability freak is in heaven. The Goth smiles "I knew you'd like it" And even the menu provides My dietary restrictions no obstacle. I have a smoothie. It's amazing. "Judging from your case I would say you play heavy metal" I giggle; Incorrect. "Are you going to play for us?" The waitress asks We look at each other; are we? And after our meal we do; The radio is turned off in response. Young children play on my violin Their parents more concerned than I "Be careful! It's delicate!" We serenade the coffee and the tables and the birdie on the wall We serenade customers and workers and the owner as well We serenade to perfect We serenade to give back to this space so beautiful We serenade half in hope of being asked to perform Of being paid to perform. The owner enjoys; the possibility is open. The workers enjoy; "you made today worth it" The customers enjoy, One chucks coins to our guitar case A suggestion of busking We drain our complimentary drinks and tip the coins Wander onwards, sated, and glowing. - To old acquaintances Who tell scandalous tales Of the Goth's little brother "Tell your folks I look after him... He's hilarious when he's wasted" The goth queries "And when I'm wasted?" "Oh it makes no difference; you're hilarious sober too!" It's truth. No one could argue except the Goth himself; "I'm glad you have a terrible sense of humour" - To Opshop, closed. And then the car, Family bubbling around us Excited voices clamour with stories With news We arrive in a field of green, Children swinging on a tyre An old meeting house is dwarfed Beside the new, uncompleted A chair in the sky Seats white fingers Coated from work; Yet his is the best view. "Uncle... Aunty... Cousin.." Names drift into the air I won't catch them. "This is only a small portion of my family; You should see the group photo!" An older man teases "Get your hair cut! Oi, why haven't you told your son to cut his hair?!" And his father expertly replies "He can do what he likes with his hair" His mother "Why haven't you died yours then? It's all grey!" Smiles spread wide at their cheek. A bell tolls Signals the slow meandering; No urgency We sit, grass beneath us Sky above Trees and field all around. These three buildings so connected. The prayer starts, In foreign tongue Yet not foreign - It is the language this land first heard Aside from sea and bird and sun An occasional group "ah" in response Teenagers mock; "aye" Babies fuss, Children wriggle Even adults chatter to one another Come and go as they please Informal. I am wrapped in his love. And all of their love. Lying in his arms With sun warming me, Love warming me, I send it back. And then chairs are moved The tables to be laid Inside this time "Come here, you don't want to do the chores, do you?" A crafty cousin teaches evasion maneuvers We kick a ball, The goth looks almost joyful The usual "Me, sports? Eww" Forgotten, or put aside. Shoes back on now "Your feet could do with some sunlight" The cousin protests. We eat with our hands; For me there are oranges And chicken salad I put ethics aside To sate hunger. We swing. The children are playing elsewhere We claim the rope as ours. An upside down ladder? A missing rung? There's more air than step. Together we swing. "Who do you belong to then?" Caught off guard "I belong to myself" The goth smiles at my assertion "How'd you get here, who brought you?" I gesture with my foot "You're so rude! You didn't even introduce me to your girlfriend! I'm his Aunty, that makes me his, and your Aunty too now." He clasps my hand "That's how easy it is in my family" We serenade once more. Nervousness closes throat How to express oneself? I feel small and shrunken Push myself to claim space - I do belong here The love swells around me Tall poppy syndrome must be beaten into me; I'm trying to convince myself I'm not being overbearing - They want to hear us. And they're impressed "Oh what a beautiful voice" "They do sound wonderful together" All laugh as Grandma joins in "That's Nan trying to out do them" With Promises to jam next time, We take the scenic exit, Past those who have past Past the past itself Graves decorated with All Blacks flags, With decks of cards, With guitars. Love. Even here, Love and celebration. - To friends Reiki, a goodbye card, packing and kittens, markets and dinner - The candles glow was soft, Too soft for menus. "I wonder why those baskets are all locked up... Ha! Basket cases!" We draw a piece to make Dali proud And jest of eating candle wax Bellies hunger. But foods arrival prevents such oddity. Eating pizza with knives and forks? I decline, fingers once more. Restaurant etiquette is not my style Mine is puffy to their flat - The perks of being gluten free? And we leave them to their dessert. With much sorrow. "Thank you for enriching my experience here" No, thank you. Thank you thank you thank you thank you. "Goodbye!" I greet "Have a wonderful life!" A different good bye. And we cry as we hug, No tears, just noise. To cheer ourselves. "Waahhhhh" We giggle and depart. Surrounded by darkness Traffic roars overhead Rocking support beams They creak Pigeons shuffle now and then A dim light is irresistible death Beyond the trees ripples fold and swell And I am here with him. Our own little patch of night time Folding and swelling around us. "Now you're the one keeping us awake" I cannot argue. This moments magic is worth tomorrow's tiredness. One more friend to visit. She saved us a piece! Oh dietary constraints! Cheesecake, for me? And delish! Hazelnutty and chocolate! Nutella like. We bitch about sudden illness About food restrictions About fad diets Apparently the 20's is when the shit goes down. Our bodies are complaining now. Maybe we'll figure out what they're trying to say, - Eventually. Speak English, damn you! - To the tent! And blessed sleep. It's technically tomorrow now. Well, it's today. "Thank you for touching my feet that time" I curl up in his arms, And all the world is golden This illness raises its angry lil head And his caring melts me Thank you thank you thank you thank you. Thank you for this beautiful most perfect day. Thank you.

Request permission to use this poem

Explore

Hello PoetryVoting

Write