DS Maolalai, “Greenhouses”

botanic gardens. 9am
and after a night out
in town. I was twenty.
nineteen – I was maybe
nineteen. out, some activity
to rinse off the drinking
and the feeling you get
of a tired clearheadedness
which you think
when you’re young
is a hangover.
endorphins rushing,
the giddiness of trick
shots at pool and the sun,
like a chuckle,


making light without heat.
the morning quite pretty
and the angle of certain
locations. greenhouses;
white-spired piles of victorian
iron. shapes of horizon
like fishhooks crunched
into a fist. fantastic. a life
in a glass of cold
water. I don’t know
who’s idea it was,
going, but remember
being glad they’d had it.


the sun on the grass
drying out a wet night.
the shine of the flowers
in clusters like billiards on baize.

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