i cannot believe I have slept through Levin/our bus is like a needle
as it criss-crosses the pasture/ paddock/ fir/ forest/ foreshore of
New Zealand/ here comes the rain again the wet sheep stand
blinking in it/ one passenger wipes the steamed-up window with
her ugly turquoise window curtain/ i knew those bus curtains
were good for something
This is a very apt poem - I did the bus trip from Sydders to Melbers yesterday and this poem kept doing mash ups in my mind - stuff like - 'i can't believe we have to go via wagga' and 'these curtains are nearly as useless and annoying as the ones on kiwi buses'.