Tunnel Vision I had tunnel vision on state highway eight–six Dunedin to Crowntown, town of dignitaries, rivalries, thank-you-please, fancies for the Queen. ~—~ Black-jawed mountains welcomed a sojourner who couldn’t see them— even though they echoed louder than a stomach and a kiss —despite a perfect silhouette. ~—~ Funny -Ha-Ha that a man such as I, smitten constantly
by natures beauty,
might dismiss a crown of Remarkable fortune and grace;
For, a smooth one–ten stick-shift
passing a slow inferior species
high on his way for Holy days of holidays.
Even the thick cicadan cemetery,
river washed (thank God)
from the wind-screen-window,
had more charity for the ‘one love’ that smiled to greet me,
at the cliff-end
|| book-end ||
finish of the drive.
I determined to focus on a passage ‘fast and safe’,
while the ocean-deep beauty of Central Otago
passed (merrily) a dreamer by.
Oh, that my heart
were a kaleidoscope in dimension,
to reflect all the colours of this world.
Then, I would stencil those silhouette peaks
into my memory,
and welcome my love
with the open throat cry of the
free-form falcon returning
I sat down to write a nesting narrative called,
“Only the clever survive,”
it was willfully silly and tastelessly burgeoning;
So, I reached out to drain the last of my sun-drenched beer glass,
and finished painting the iris framed mountainside
the heavenly hue.
© Iain Sutherland, 2013.