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D.S. Maolalai

No-one's seen anyone lately.


walking with jack;

just the two of us 

around the perimeter

of the wide phoenix park. 

we like trading our weeks

on the weekend together – 

hungry for gossip

and somewhat bereft


because no-one, of course, 

has seen anyone lately – 

and there's really quite little

to share. I tell him the story

of a car I'm considering 

buying – this 3rd 

hand convertible, old 

cracking brick sun-

set red. "chrys doesn't want it,"

I tell him in confidence; 

"but then, she's not paying – 

and I want a car 


I can drive in,

you know what I mean? some-

thing to push down

and pull against gravity. 

something that moves

where I move it." he agrees

with my girlfriend – convertible

a stupid decision – 

it rains here so often

and where would I go?

says to get on with going 

to somewhere. I tell him

“I guess” and shut up.


we move on, meet in passing 

his recent ex-girlfriend.

he's not tongue-tied

at all. does most

of the talking.

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