Neon Saints, K Road

by Topher Shields

K Road holds its light

without asking what it touches.

Outside the dairy

a man counts coins twice—

once for the night.

—

A boy leans in a doorway

offering nothing named—

just the pause.

—

Inside, bass moves through the floor

before it reaches the body.

You feel it

where you haven’t agreed to feel anything.

—

At the counter—

a hand passes a note

folded small enough

to mean don’t ask.

I look away

too early.

—

Karangahape hums—

not music,

not traffic—

I follow it

past light

past the last place

still pretending to be open—

—

In the alley

two men negotiate touch

like it might hold.

One laughs.

—

The rats here don’t scatter.

They wait—

watching what we drop

when we think no one sees.

—

At the ATM

I check my balance

then stand there

long enough

for the screen to dim—

my face

returning

in parts

that don’t agree.

—

A car slows.

The window lowers

just enough

for a face

to not be seen.

—

“Where to?”

This time

I say it.

The word leaves

clean—

and something in me

steps forward

to meet it.

We don’t go far.

—

A room

that holds its heat

without light—

a hand

that knows

where to stop asking.

—

After—

I stand at the sink

water running

past use.

—

In the mirror

my mouth

still forming it—

not the place,

not the street—

but the amount

I didn’t argue.

—

Outside,

K Road keeps moving—

as if nothing

was entered.

BIO: Topher Shields is a poet from Aotearoa New Zealand. His work appears or is forthcoming in Puerto del Sol, The Shore, Cordite Poetry Review, The Santa Clara Review, Mantis, Pinyon Review, and elsewhere. He was a finalist for the River Heron Poetry Prize (2025).