Ngawhatu
On the Richmond bus to Nelson passing Polstead Road
you only had to say it, and everyone knew, unspoken we almost dared not look, it stirred such potent thoughts caused laughter, mocking, and a deeply seated superstition innuendo out the window, the road that leads to there To where? You ask? But we all knew, we knew for sure that’s where the loonies go and you’ll go there for sure we’d tell each other, laughing, pointing, up that road if you’re not careful, shit a brick, you’ll end up there What’s up there? But no one speaks, it’s all unspoken get off the grass and up your arse with superstition hoodackie, thingummybob, bite your bum thoughts no cock crowed thrice as I denied , but in my thoughts were you and him but tightly kept, ashamed for sure of knowing what was up that road, alas not superstition the halfway mark en route, bus stop Polstead Road get off the grass, half pie inside I laughed, my shame unspoken the loony bin we shouted up the boohai pointing there. I daren’t admit in public on the bus that I’d been there in Aunty’s Morris Minor up that road; my thoughts I kept inside, our weekend visits left unspoken the loony bin they shouted but none of them so sure not the way that I was, not exactly what was up that road yes I knew just how to thwart suspicion, superstition Scottish names they gave the villas, avoiding superstition Stirling at the top was called the lock-up, dangerous to be there but more benign was Kinross halfway up a landscaped road among ornamental conifers, the bowling lawn, some say their thoughts still haunt the valley, patients weaving baskets, no one’s sure just what they felt besides the shock of ECT, most of it unspoken the loony bin, we shouted, yet kept the worst unspoken for if we named or claimed this thing we fed our superstition the potential that was lurking at this intersection meant for sure a powerful sense of self protection; we were never going there up Polstead Road, we mocked and scoffed … but in my thoughts I knew the way by heart, each bend, and every valley of that road nga’s not superstitious and whatu, is possibly an eye, or hailstone (yes, I get that for sure) yet up that road my thoughts still go when ngawhatu meant loony and both of you … but now it’s not unspoken. |