Receiving love down the phoneline
from Hamilton.

Quite possibly the strangest
kind of love to get.

Hamilton.
I don’t really get it.

For some reason the only image
that comes to mind

is the grey mud of Morrinsville
and a tacky town dress

in the window of Xpressions
(with an X).

So you can understand me when
I’m driving through the green hills

of Colin McCahon country
when I receive it, see the

storm clouds gathering up ahead,
moving their way from north to south

and don’t really know
what to do with it.