“Rotorua Dreaming”

I met two Englishmen

travelling the world with

stories of carnivals and camping

unrivalled by my wildest imagination

and I fell for a German girl

who kissed like nothing I’ve known.

I befriended a Dane who decided

to travel the planet indefinitely,

a marine biologist turned scuba instructor

and an Oxford graduate who had

never heard that song about his comma.

 

I drank with a Canadian who

walked to the shops in flip-flops

when it was minus forty out,

apologising when I spilt my drink,

and another German who kept

buying me beer – my pleas getting

lost in translation and golden bubbles.

All in a volcanic town exploding

with stories and sulphur,

oratory and olfactory sensation

bursting forth from boiling geysers.

 

There is a whole world out there,

people and places never thought of,

conversations never considered,

kisses uncaptured by fantasy.

Words can barely explore an

experience so infused with colour

that it matches the steaming

orange-green-yellow-blue-red

mineral pools of Wai-O-Tapu,

drawn from deep in the Earth,

from dreams deep in my soul.

2 thoughts on ““Rotorua Dreaming”

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