Tuesday, June 9, 2020

194. street cars and cereal


you have gone to bed, yet I –

Bohemian, self-employed, non-essential

munch on Raisin Bran much too

late for a midnight snack, too early

for breakfast:

 

Winston Churchill’s high school

gazes back, orange LED blinking at

the late-night drivers criss-crossing

On the dwindling asphalt strips

 

Shopper’s is long abandoned, no longer

open 24 hours; so is

the Community Centre, though I

recall our first summer you let me

ride your new e-bike –

ever-klutzy, I had bumps and bruises

from start-and-stop turns that

were not so successful

though you –

drove home from the bike store

on your first

try –

 

early in the summer we once crossed

through the park behind, stuffed full

from a buffet back

when you had plenty leftover before

paying rent

alone

 

teenagers no longer

circle round the crescent

of the schoolyard nor do

yellow buses line in a row of

metallic rectangle ducks

 

hard crunch and soft

mush and Vivaldi

from the living room

and the sounds of

swishing cars and

trucks on

Lawrence Ave –

 

bars of the light extinguish as I

close mosquito netting and old teal

drapes on the school

 

as Winston Churchill’s namesake watches me

join you in the bedroom,

hallway lights clicking quiet:

LEDs blink last

month’s messages, waiting for

mornings full of students that no

longer

come.

 


11 mai 2020

Scarborough, ON

Wednesday, May 6, 2020

193. Victoria Park, July


Darren P. (Oct 12, 2013)

your eyes
glow gold
in the summer
sunshine

your smile
as warm as
Canadian
midsummer
can be

by the river
watching
swans and
children
play

time so
slow
and the
air so
sweet

even then
I’m not sure
I realized the beauty of
such a moment

simple,
wondrous

as you are

as we are

gold glints
shining in summer
sunbeams,
beaming
brilliant

March 21, 2020
Montréal, QC

192. sonneries de la STM


ding
ding
ding

light
green flashes in the
wintry dark lit
artificial by the
pasty
metro
lights

beep
beep
beep

go the sleeping
passengers

one by one

three by three

through the
turnstile

gates

March 21, 2020
Montréal, QC

191. Marius à Javert


hours & minutes

après minuit,
your call
dings
several times in my
barely lit
apartment

smiling in spite of myself –
I check and answer
other messages,
stalling before I answer yours
yet –
out of fear, and

excitement

the purple & white
square
glows sunset amidst
notifications

I check the little litany of
messages
once,
twice,
thrice -
still in
queenly
defiance

your photos
illuminate my screen
once more –
I imagine us together
by that twilit
lake, your
dark eyes smiling
into
mine

the first
touch of your
tender yet
strong
hand

hours –
minutes –
past midnight
I am ablaze and
afire with
pangs of new love?
infatuation?

or is it precisely
the mystery
that keeps us –
me –
enthralled?

is it simply
friendship you want?
my own crazed
heart spinning
imaginations and
prophetic
fantasies?

I think of at the love
my partner
and I
share

finally, a
deep and
trusting bond
safe and perhaps
not so
intoxicating

isn’t all love
a thrill at first?
perhaps I only seek
these virtual
sparks
which will always
dissipate

I muse on
love and
faith
in the darkness,
on options

and time seems
such a feeble
foe
to
intensity

buzz
buzz

goes my
phone in the
dark

beckoning,
taunting

innocent
conversation,

I tell

myself

April 24, 2020
Montréal, QC