Native Poem by David J McDonagh

On the train from the ferry,
I'm pointing, enthusing;
nose snug in the guidebook,
you snigger at ‘BUTT Bridge'.

Five minutes later,
while crossing the Loopline,
you're lovestruck…

Tossing the guidebook,
you set out to find
the city behind the city,

going native,
like I did,
and many before us
(settlers, invaders,
workers, dreamers)
—how a city becomes a city.

At the General Post Office,
pillar hugging,
nose snug in the fluting,
(communing) ,
I see you approaching,
your hand reaching phoneward;

I answer,
stepping forward
to make my proclamation…