Be a Tidy Kiwi

The liturgical calendar is marked in greens and yellows. Solemnity days and feast days alternate across the spread of the year on a piece of glossy parchment. When the offerings are ready, they are hauled to the edge of the procession, dressing gowns pulled taut around bulging torsos. The municipal implements of rebirth rumbling around the streets accepting our plastic penance. The gods are shrill with worn old brake pads. It is our call to prayer. ‘Reuse, reduce, recycle’ the holy mantra goes. Like all mantras the words are said so we can avoid the deeds. The offerings disappear off down the highway and our part in the ceremony is done. We go back to a simple life, on a waste land, in a waste sea, a tribe of tidy Kiwi.