Poem 233

An instance where the poem literally knocked on my door … this is very much in the turning-the-minutiae-of-life-into-poetry mode of Charles Bukowski whose collection Love Is A Dog From Hell I bought in my early twenties and read a lot …

Day Well Spent

I was considering giving up
all thought of writing on this
slippery page
with the way my eyes seemed
to skate off
                     when the door knocked
and there was a thirtyish Māori lady
and her twenty-eightish friend
asking me if I had any beer bottles
for the netball club
and I said no
                        and they said ok
and went round the corner of the house
but as I closed the door
I was struck by the thought
of about twenty-five coke bottles under the sink
and I caught them up
                                       and said
are those any good to you
and they said we'll take anything
so I pulled all the old bottles out
and they put them in some boxes
and took them away
                                      then I shut the door again
came back and chugged down
the rest of this coca-cola
and put the empty bottle right to the back
in the big space under the sink