DARLING I KNOW YOU SUFFER AND I’M HERE FOR YOU.

we laugh like we used to.
before the kids.
before the house.

back when debts were settled with
two coloured cats eye marbles
and my only pokémon card
i bought with my lunch money
off my rich palagi mate.

when ceilings were creaking floorboards
humming girl power anthems and
ain’t that just the way that life goes
down
down

down
down.
like mike splitting free throw lines.
i wanted to be the paekākāriki express.

chipping and chasing wild watercress
shotgunned under rooftops of punga eels
who sheltered clay soil paths dad spent a summer digging.

he carved our names into tree roots staircased to a creek
where we’d wash our legs scraped with blackberry.

we ran through maize he grew
chasing mystic moon views rising
at the edge of his green thumb.

he planted his seeds with
bootstraps
calloused hands and
we don’t need no education.

survived in
motor oil
whiskey breath
rothman cigarettes.

half his mates didn’t survive
asbestos or asphalt.

a few sit round his lounge now
broken boned road workers
fingers twisted in carpal tunnel
gifting bags of greenery.

cancer scares
cancer skin
four hundred dollars
a week in pension. 

gettin up
getting high
gettin down
gettin no-no-nowhere.

i sit across a table in remuera where
white collars popped discuss
what to do with their third property.

i stare at perfect crooked teeth dipped
in italian red wine
gnawing chipped paint off their beach house
in a town

they can’t even pronounce.

reclined in a railroad home
dads bones rattle and radiate
we throw our hands up to celebrate
him eating the first solid thing in weeks.

Time spins on a record player
our wishes crackle into dust.
can we pause for a moment?
can we go back to the start?

i missed my favourite part.

i visit dry creeks wishing for the same thing.
sandalwood burns through hallways and yeah

ain’t that just the way that life goes
down.
down.
down.
down.

Rex Letoa Paget
from Manuali’i, Saufo’i Press, 2024

This poem is from my debut collection, Manuali’i, published by Saufo’i Press. At the time this poem came about, I was helping to look after my dad near the end of his life. One of my best friends introduced me to Thich Nhat Hanh’s Four Mantras of Presence, which inspired the four poems that open the Elysian Plains chapter in Manuali’i. This poem is one of my favourites of the four. It was sparked by Lutricia McNeal’s Ain’t That Just The Way, a song my older sister used to play on all our summer road trips. It reminded me of childhood innocence, dreams not realised, and what it means to survive a system that is never on your side. I wanted to shine a light on the broken capitalist mentality around what hard work means and who benefits most from the labour of the working class.
Rex

Rex Letoa Paget (Sāmoan/Danish) is a crafter of words born in Aotearoa, now living on the unceded lands of the Wurundjeri people. A keen observer of the world around him as well as the world inside of him. His poetry and storytelling are his compass through space and time. His first collection of poetry, Manuali’i, published by Saufo’i Publishing Press, was awarded the 2025 Jessie Mackay Poetry Prize for best first book of poetry at the Ockham New Zealand Book Awards. His offerings are lessons, learnings, and acknowledgments for the timelines and traditions of yesterday, today and tomorrow.