What I Remember About the Movement

Brent Kininmont

Round and white
the tracking station

looked hard
at the sky.

When someone lobbed eggs,
its shell intercepted

the signals
(proving our suspicions).

It was an easy lie –
a golf ball

some giant might
swing at.

All we budged was
the police van

back on the road
when the engine resisted.

(Waihopai)