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
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
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….


About Crazy Irishman

Touted as a working man's poet, Martin Durkin has been writing professionally for the last 12 years. He has appeared in over twenty anthologies across North America, including, "And left a place to stand on", a collection of poems and essays about the late great Al Purdy. Durkin has also published two collections of poetry, "Hypnotic Childhood", and "The Sound of Quish". Over the past 4 years, Durkin has been on hiatus for the most part but has recently come back to the poetry scene creating a poetry site called crazyirishman.wordpress.com, where in the past year he has written over 100 poems and created a cross over page on https://www.facebook.com/crazyirishmanpoetry where he gives a story behind each of the pieces written. View all posts by Crazy Irishman

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