I have loved Verkykerskop since I first stumbled upon it and visited as often as I can. I wrote Verkykerskop in 2012 and Back at Binocular Hill the next year – if you are interested. I was there this week to say goodbye to the marvels as they move on to new adventures. Many will miss the utterly unique space Beth Hilary and Matt Hoffman created. I wrote this poem while the sun rose through rusty railings, balaclava-clad men set off for work and the cattle called plaintively.
Puss in Boots
huddled beside Binocular Hill
gumtrees whisper
stories of strawberries and sidecars
septic tanks and stolen cigarettes
where a collection of curiosities collide
the Kewpie Doll is black
Trechikoff clings glumly to the walls
and Marilyn is definitely naked
Tippex stretches on the stone step
Beth smokes on the sun-drenched bench
Matt drives off to buy onions
the top cop orders Russians to go
the morning star beckons the persimmon skies
cold sun shafts through charcoal clouds
a MoSotho man implores one to drink more tea
bikers have breakfast with beer
white bakkies clatter through the hills
dusty wire fences the road
suddenly it is Verkykerskop
will they slow? oh no
sunday tables sag with boerewors and beans
spinach is piled onto pizza
curious travellers linger a while longer
then depart replete with intrigue
