White splats on crimson
gulls keep up the dawn,
the city blinks, tosses
rattles sleeping volcanoes,
harbour bridge traffic stalls
caffeine takes its toll.
With more wheels than Detroit
concrete river motorways
cut chunks cut of history
and a dictionary of architecture:
straight laced villas,
pre-war wooden bungalows,
red corrugated iron roofs.
People in lofts an the brow of Mt Eden
count gutted carcasses of ships
freed from containers.
Bandaged in scarves and coats
commuters decent from ferries.
Spruikers sidestep rappers
and a Maori girl singing soul
eclipses tourists.
At Mongrel Mob headquarters
brothers brave alcoholic scars
accumulate gristle,
toss scraps to wall-eyed
disagreeable dogs.
In beauty contest night lights
Queen Street transvestites
tout deep seamed lust,
compete with sushi bars
and Samoan takeaways.
Like an All Black final
Auckland's magnet lures.
Contagious, a larrakin
she plays symphonies underground
her noise in a different key.