Shelter-Belt Poem by Bernadette Hall

Native or exotic?
Hey, you calling me exotic?

Crossed the Rakaia,
heading down to Ash-vegas,
drifting past Nifty Gifts, Home World,
Waterloo Wreckers, the Top Hat Café,
the usual spring stock-losses.

I stayed a day and a night in Austria.
I wasn't impressed.

Ah, the hauteur of the may tree,
hokey pokey, sweet serein,
a cockatoo hanging upside down
over the front entrance to The Warehouse.

Want to get into security?
Get a gun licence.

Your car clicking when you turn it on?

Do yourself a favour
and become a Christian.
Do your self a favour
and learn how to spell.