Wellington Drainage System

 

Outside? Inside.

A coffee? A coffee.

I’ll pay. No, no, no, I’ll pay.

If you say

the cruel mathematics of joy,

you could be saying

the cruel wipe-out-art of making-not.

She’s funny that way.

Is it that time?

Warmly, the afternoon

of an evening train whistled.

*

 

Outside? Outside.

I’ll pay. No, no, I’ll pay.

A vague suspicion,

things go Dutch from here,

they could, off course,

an extra f, a bit of emphasis on the o

for the word was given to spell a while.

Do you have to go?

Tea? A coffee.

I’ll pay. No. It’s my turn.

Well, it doesn’t matter.

The fearless self-termination phrase

turns into a road that forks.

Already?

*

Inside? Outside.

Tea? Tea.

I’ll pay. I’ll.

The oppressive white

is where the cleansing happens,

its familiar rituals, 

shower, toilet, basin…

Little chunks of action

strung together in no particular order,

no redemptive grammar.

Don’t tell me.

Warmly, the afternoon

of an evening train whistled.