Brief siblings
1. A brother
A big man in a motley top
dogs me through Ikea.
First we share a slot
in the big revolving
door – Hej! – and when
I reach the men’s toilet
he’s already there
ablaze with colours
and later at the head
of the cafeteria queue
then chooses a table
three rows away,
facing mine, his big
ruddy head, with its bald
spot peeking through, bent
over a plate of meatballs.
I wonder whether he’s aware
that we’re entangled, briefly
bonded in some quantum way.
On any given day
in any public setting
there’s almost always
one such karmic sibling;
what’s the bet he snaffles
the last two-by-two gloss-
white Kallax flatpack
on the pallet in aisle 9?
But then I see him
held up in the toy section
dancing to entertain a child
like a clumsy bear.
2. A sister
Waiting for my toastie
in the wintry air
I watch you pacing
briskly, your funky
boots and electric hair
and feel my family’s itch
to speak to strangers,
form a bond, quick
and deep as superglue
but then regret, fall out,
fight or kill by neglect
etcetera. And so
I inspect my own shoes
and later, carrying
takeaway cups to the table
find I’ve gone off you
walking erratically
in front of me, oblivious
caught up in some intensity
I might have bought into
just plain in the way.
Another bodhisattva
Someone has to watch the cabin crew
act out the safety instructions
so I do, looking past the bouffant hair
of the tall guy two rows ahead.
I’m rewarded when the nearest steward,
older, with a simple bob,
suddenly lights up – it’s show time!
Blissfully she clips and tightens the seatbelt;
releasing it is a vast freedom.
The oxygen mask dangles like exotic fruit
or a Christmas tree ornament and she’s
an ecstatic child. Roguishly
she dons the frayed lifejacket
for a fancy-dress ball, shares the joke
of its whistle with us and struts
proudly down the aisle, acknowledging
non-existent applause, turning her head to check
that we’ve taken her point: this humdrum
commuter flight goes to paradise.
Kai Jensen was born in Philadelphia, as a child emigrated to New Zealand with his family, and is now an Australian. Kai lives and writes at Wallaga Lake on the Far South Coast of New South Wales.