Death of a DJ - Karlo Mila

Death of a DJ
- Karlo Mila

the needle you used
to mend the tears beneath the fabric
that for so long
successfully hemmed in the unravelling fears
did its fair share of unpicking
because there isn't a flicker of recognition
in your colourless eyes
when you turn up at my door
you've just got power to sell and pamphlets
to pass on, I check your nametag
which confirms you are you
skin the colour of concrete holding water
crushed eggshell of a boy I once knew
who wore black pepper bowler hats
with salt white hair
and DJed till dawn
the coolest cat in town
now on the edge of your ninth life

I heard your hypodermic sewing circle disbanded
that you can't show your face in Wellington
leaving a string of bad debts and worse judgement calls
behind you
as you pass me the power prices
I grind my teeth in anger
at the false intimacy a name badge allows
as you are reduced to a shaky
biro blue rendition
of your former phat black vivid tagged self
and I want to say

I'm not the billpaqyer
but I want to buy what you're selling
and I want to say
I'm not a Christian
but the prodigal son was probably an addict
and God be with you
but instead
I just think about how a shooting star
is the same thing as a falling star
and he's diappeared down our driveway
going door to door
selling what's left of his power



Karlo Mila is of Tongan, Palangi and Samoan descent. She was born in Rotorua, grew up in Palmerston North and now lives and works in Auckland. She has had poetry published in Whetu Moana, Best New Zealand Poems 2003, Short Fuse: The Global Anthology of Fusion Poetry, the Listener and Coffee and Coconuts. Karlo performs live poetry regularly.
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