Category: Before the Rain

We began as workmates.
By day four, we were mates.
It was my work ethic he said,
said, if someone was a good worker,
there wouldn’t be much wrong with them.
20 years later this wisdom became accessible.

We talked, really talked
he was pleased for my academic success.
He’d left education young,
just two years of high school –
becoming a farm labourer and then share milker.
Had lived where he worked
saved his pennies
sinking his money into 15 acres jutting into the harbour.
Madness everyone said
“ totally mad ”
any farmer knew that land had no value –
“too  small,
salt poisoned – no good for cattle or sheep.”

He took me once – one afternoon during work time
–      “ I can sack you too!”
He’d owned it 10 years by then,
“ it’ll be valuable one day son – you mark my words.”

In the 2000’s it back dropped the America’s Cup,
capital gain : stratospheric.

For a few short weeks
the world travelled an impossibly smooth arc.
No tantrums of weather
or reluctance from invoices.
The trucks always found the right address –
the yard the exact request.
We were like Batman and Robin
rather than knocking out felons, we knocked up fences.

The tone was always apologetic
they hadn’t thought necessary …. but ..…
“realize now we should have ….
could you …. if you have time?” No problem.

Gratitude as currency –
we always got tea,
sometimes home baking
“anything else?” The young mothers would ask.
Bill always had a ready and fresh double entrendre.
Nowadays it would be sexual harassment. They loved it.

There were no trees, only spindly saplings
thin forks of branches – nursemaid stakes
there were no flower beds and no water features,
just some hopeful shrubs and sun kilned lawns.

The concrete –
driveways,
curbing,
footpaths,
still bleached white
yet to feel the graffiti of sun, rain and age.
Butter yellow fence palings
timber mill proud
unsilvered by time,
not made up with paint
nails – bright shining bullet holes – no oxides.

We move through the estate
building fences – gift wrapping just finished homes.
The streets half full, or half empty –
demographic twin, of the metaphorical glass
hopes and dreams fulfilled,
or life sentence.

Washing lines of desoiled babyware
flattering mast pennants
semaphore proclamations of a new generation :
continuation of a dynasty,
this country as home, now.

Romance at its most suburban,
most optimistic
and most dismaying.
Bill said, “ take a look around son …. this is your future.”