Yesterday in the street a young girl stopped me
to ask if I’d caught a ball from the new stadium yet.
And I smiled back at her knowing that was her world.
I thought about Dunedin, and running round out the
back of your place with Wyeth. His world it seemed
was the same as this girl’s as she looked past me
expecting a ball to land close-by. I remembered
also Jim Morrison who said once that
if his poetry “aimed to do anything”, it was to
“deliver people from the limited ways
in which they see and feel.” Sometimes that’s
how I think of you, your poems and your face,
watching us through the window, as if waiting for us
to leave our world and come to visit yours.