if you’re going to rob a bank – don’t wear orange work wear and look at the camera……

bottle
glass coffee table
cigarette
dress

trapped
empty drinking glass
comfortable couch

refill
shrugging

hopeless
another sip

listens

‘here’s the plan’

sighs

‘it’s a poor plan’

man off camera
huffs

‘what would you do then’

camera focused on couch
legs crossing
silence

she
looks at man off camera

doesn’t offer him a glass

‘this is what i would do’….


fields to home

broke through the rotted gates
cut down the grown thorns
re-hooked (up) the water
followed the fallen snake rails

restrung old leather
re-attached down wire
de-wormed the two creatures

saddled – stamped boots

cut through the old forest
coasted o’er old streams
walked the cedar hills
picked feet o’er stone

crossed fields of Montana
poplar trees of Ont.
old rock quarry cut paths
and barbed-wired-up dams

the fields are where we left them
time tries to find same sounds
saddles creak with our bones
horse snorts for spring home

the old barn(s) are teepee’d
follow us through season to field
the water finds lines – travels from basements underground

old horses backed-bare searching out-of-shape with heads down

we walk back the road
top hill to family home
wash hands and sit on sofa(s)

-tails flap – then roll…..


If you believe what you see on television…

there is no case of mistaken identity
not when standing in your lovers work shirt
hair in towel
coffee in hand

eyes

saying

‘Would you like a cup?’

yet
that’s what he was claiming
stating

‘She’s not the woman i married’

suit ties with penned badges
not entirely
catching his reference

wondering

improvement?

but she’s sitting on the sofa now
eye turning blue/black
tears in sleeves

screaming

‘I thought this was what you wanted!’

what he wanted?

‘What i want is breakfast on the table when i
come home after a long night shift!’

domestic quarrels

pinned badges are looked at
side pocket therapy is pulled from experience

“You can’t hit women you mutt!’

then

‘Give the man some eggs over easy once in a while!’

followed by….

“tell her you love her
and that she’s sexy in your shirt’

finally

‘now – do you want to press charges against him?!’

head raises off sleeve
nose drips
eyes search for the right answer

‘No’….

‘Good’
says the roomful of badges
-a chorus song

‘but if we gotta come back here….”

…and all that’s wrong with the world
keeps spinning into tomorrow


neon flashing night

a smoke with the phone call
Elliott streaming on radio
Brood(ing)  feline in background

dark apt. room
drape-less window

naked woman not caring
passing small table by the door

puffs out cigarette
holds phone to ear
saying

‘don’t bother coming over – i’m off now going to bed’……..

crushes cigarette
clips off phone light
ends the call

smiles in dark shadow
leaves radio to finish song

walks back into bedroom
passing by small table – gun waiting
….closing unlocked door

(pulp city)


HOMETOWN SOJOURN PART 5 OF 5

Quinte of the (West)…

i was driving past
the airbase

i always enjoyed driving past the airbase
technically for CFB Trenton – you were driving
‘through’ the airbase – since
Hwy # 2 cut down the middle
separating barracks and runway.

as a college student i was able to come on base
and write stories
do a ‘fly’ along on a Hercules.

today it dawned on me….

– the airbase –

why not join?

why not look into it and see what opportunities were there for me?
CFB Trenton could keep me in the area

-maybe not right away

but it could allow me a career
and the opportunity to one day come home
and create those memorie(s)

while creating new memories in between…

i could do something important
work harder than i ever thought possible

and from the sky

look every once in awhile
when flying over the Hometown i loved
and think…..

i’ll be back

and finally

it will be permanent….


HOMETOWN SOJOURN PART 4 OF 5….

Against the Grain…..

today is a good day
i’m turning left onto Dundas
leaving the Horton’s/Oil Change Shop…
and i don’t care if it holds up people behind me in the drive
at least i put on my flicker letting you know

and the college radio is going
CJLX – only station in this town
playing music that people
outside of the 80’s or in their 80’s
can identify with

like i say
it’s a good day in bellVegas

if you pretend that all the good ideas are going
to be completed
if you pretend that talk radio or normal media
is going to give you
well informed information the
politickers can’t tear apart in argument(s)

…..research and know your history boys
that’s all i gotta say

but what am i saying? the cynicism which comes with getting older
was creeping back in….

this is why i have college radio going
it reminds me that i left cynicism behind in high school
and accomplished something more

the radio reminds me that i need
to keep pushing forward
and enjoy the ride..

so
i’m leaving the driveway
and entering the currents of Dundas/Hwy 2
feeling like a King…

i’m turning left against the grain
it’s what i do naturally

ignoring any horn which honks
and turning up the volume……


HOMETOWN SOJOURN PT.3

Wanksy Town….

after leaving Wallbridge Road
i drove Moira capturing parts of the community college as it
appeared and disappeared in the southern scenery.
talk radio spoke on- wondering when a new police
station was going to be built after a decade of waiting

i thought about the front entrance to the college
never created –
students achieving a post secondary education since ’67
by going through the back doors….

this road was a 3 min stretch – a tributary between
borderlines and main arteries

i passed stores and scrub brush on my right
following the railway to my left
with
hydro lines marking time as i
coasted through the 80 zone

hydro lines

live lines twined between dead lines
wrapped around standing poles
parts of sawed off poles still hanging from old wires in despair

– what a mess –

Moira Orchards Barn
‘Do Not Cross Tracks’

their market set up across the way
where parking was the only concern

i completed the Moira Street jaunt
stopped at the red light before turning onto Sidney

i took notice of
the abandoned race track with collapsed-in horse stalls
challenging ghosts of the old auction buildings
littering the scenery until Bridge

the once proud looking racetrack sign
now with plywood for a crown
covering the knocked out fiberglass and broken lights
a skull and cross-bone logo
stapled-in advertising for smoke alarms or carbon alarms
or pay day loans

it left me thinking about the notorious ‘Wanksy’ activist
who was doing graffiti art in parts of England in order to get potholes filled….

but i didn’t go as far as the barns and the track today
instead
i pulled into the primary school
and sat in the parking lot

today i was driving ‘cab’
i was shipping a carload of this towns future home

-a part-time job within the family to help with some cash flow
while waiting on a phone call from one of the resume drop offs

and i thought about the promise to myself

not to become cynical….

instead i smiled waiting for the bright energy of book bags with stories
to enter the backseat with tales of recess triumphs

what the hell i thought – let’s be young again
turn back le calendrier

and relive a hypnotic childhood….


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