By | 1 July 1998

Under the umbrellas of Lygon Street
doing our Renoir ‘Boating Party’ scene
a voice (mine) is saying –

Once in Suva a lovely Fiji girl wrote a message
on the flyleaf of my Lonely Planet guide
to her grandfather, a village chief in Ovalau
that ancient island and in due course I walked
down a track under the volcano cone into
a green clearing, was led to meet Joeli,
sat to a meal with the elders in a long hut
and was asked to bowl the first ball
in the Sunday kirikit match.Which I did.
Then lay drowsing in the palm-fingered shade.

This tale curdles among the coffee cups.
“You made that up.” Indeed I did.
The iron laws of narrative make fictions of us all.

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