Poetry

It Just Tastes Better In Paeroa

Like the taste of rain when you are lying
Flat on your back with your mouth wide open
Your hair splayed, not-so-neatly
In a fan around your head
Soaking up that days puddles
 
Like blood leaking into your mouth
After a crack to the face
By your brother with a frying pan
In an out of character, fit of rage
For which you later forgive him for
 
Like spending the night
With a flawlessly scented man
In the L&P capital of the world
Enjoying a fine “meal” in earnest
Swallowing every drop with satisfaction
 
Like public, beach water fountains
In need of long overdue replacement
 
Like the 50 cent ice creams
That should really cost 4 dollars
 
Like the dulcet tones of
“Love is all Around”
Pouring from the tinny speakers
Of your beat up 1984 Mitsubishi Sigma
 
Like the lung full of non-alcoholic air
Pushed into Sergent Roadside’s breathaliser
 
Like a taste of home, the liquid gold
Of lemon, and Coca Cola Limited’s
Sprinkling of magic
 
Nothing tastes quite like it does in Paeroa.

 

NB: You can find this in the Manawatu Standard this Saturday!

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