We lunched at ‘Springs’ one day
the place where North and South
meet West
where outside smokers huddled
in the damp
and in the café
travellers vied
for cake and pie
and slid their words
across formica tables
‘It’s raining.’
‘How many times have you
been here when it isn’t?’
and then a light switch flickered on
as aged bikies
bubbled in
bald headed babes
in black leather rompers
‘Jees that bend was a boomer.
Took it flat out
like a greyhound racing.’
This poem was inspired by a cheerful bunch of older motorcyclists who brightened a wet day lunch at Springs Junction. It was published in The Lumière Reader, June 2008.
For those who don’t know it, Spring’s Junction is a very small place, made up mostly of a petrol station, cafe, and motels situated just before the turnoff to Reefton, a well-known stop for travellers on the way to/from Christchurch through the Lewis Pass. The cafe does a great kiwi lunch!
- Energetic Motor-Cyclist. “Why the deuce don’t you sit still? You’ll have us over in a minute.”
- The above image is from PUNCH or THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL 159, September 15th 1920. Courtesy of Project Gutenberg.
- And now that you’ve lunched at Springs Junction you can return to Tuesday Poem.
