To get to Nelson we drove through Hope.
You waited in the car while I stretched my legs in a layby
overlooking the green of an apple-shaped lake.
There was sweat on the back of my neck
as I caught your glance reflected in the glint
of the rear-view mirror.
Later at your aunt’s place, the smell of lilac heavy
beyond the windows of her wooden house. A hand on my shoulder
but I reached only for the granite and the popcorn scented gorse.