The City Of Sails. Poem by Michael Walker

In a way, Auckland is like an hourglass
where the sands of time keep falling
minute by minute second by second
for uptight drivers at the lights
waiting for red to become green.
Maybe they question the raised platforms
that have crept in, designed by creeps.
Roadworks are key in the supercity;
you see hardworking men with pile-drivers
no matter where you drive, when you drive.
A motorway flyover and a road tunnel
advance gradually over and underground.
These may turn out better in a roundabout way,
but 'drive on the ground' is what I say.

-10 April,2016.