One Fire

i’m cold steel
leaning into your fiery burlington street fire
and the harbour burns alive
the stars light up the night stage
and downtown calls us up James

but let’s not stop there

on

this novemember night

are you my cold steel?
i’ll be your fire stax leaving under overpasses –
we’ll take kenilworth
find our way up the mountain

keep driving babe
or let me

we’ll somehow be in Niagara before you know it
we’ll be in the wine fields drinking megalo
we’ll be anywhere but apart

my thoughts are cold steel in the night
ready on the beach under the sky
shining dark and brave
ready for your heat

we’ll heat each other
we’ll be both cold steel and hot
hot fire

hot fire leaving

wrapping around the Q.E mouth
on static electric trax
heading out to another town
still in this same province
but showing ourselves

hot fire melting cold steel

and from the distant horizon
people will see

one burning glow……..

you can’t write if you don’t have a desk

i picture myself in a small office
cluttered like ray bradbury’s
or
underneath a single light
cigarettes smoking
a girl naked moaning from the bed upset that i’m not there
there’s a fedora somewhere
same sexy woman leaning over me
maybe she’s naked pretending to type trying to inspire me to leave.
there’s works and works and works
of other writers around me
stax of them
and pictures
posters covering the wall
framed memorabilia flashing across the computer screen
trips taken around the world-
it’s midnight
and there’s jazz
or mid day and talk radio
lunch time with rock n roll

instead

it’s an old bedroom
cluttered with garbage and beer bottles
a dog snoring loudly
i’m alone in my pajama’s at 4pm
boiling sausages
radio turning off hockey game
surfing the web for cartoons or…whatever
there’s an annoying sound in my head
telling me the next great word is about to be written
blazay bullshit every writer has said a thousand times before

but it’s friday
it’s almost quitting time.
honey
flip the sausages
turn down the heat and get in bed

oh yeah……

you’re not here

and it’s friday
it’s almost quitting time
-throw on the fedora
and head home to the living room
….turn on the TV

and cut up those sausages

waste of a good pulp

she was naked on the cushions when he came in
Get yer dirty feet off my couch
from heel to toe, her soles were dirty
grudgingly she got up and sauntered past him
sulking and showing off what she had
a beauty from front to back
as though a Robert McGinnis painting had come to life
Wash those feet and then these floors
only he would notice the foot marks
a waste of moment leaving the room

Back to Old Montreal

we are heading back to Old Montreal
back to
René Lévesque Boulevard
the Notre-Dame Basilica
with a walk along the St. Lawrence

i
have scoured for a better hotel
where cheap french wine and Molson with an accent
can have proper refrigeration
instead of another cooling register by window

once again
out our window we will be able to see the roof top of
China Town
we will walk 10 minutes to the museum
witness the tour of Rodin – commit passion to memory
and honest raw love_to reality

we will order in cheap grub
you will speak the language of a single province
and i will point at pictures on the menu
.
.
.
we are heading back to Old Montreal
where the landscape of Kingston and France came together and
said ‘ lets mingle’ ….’lets be like Rodin and create battling love’

for a weekend
you and i will leave Canada behind
bring a 7 year memory back across cobblestone
back over 401 hwy
and see nothing but one another_until check out time…..

going ‘home’

they had a smoke at midnight under the street lamp
one of the few places you could still smoke
even then
people leaving the bar gave them dirty looks – waving their hands and such

Gus pushed his hat up giving his forehead a chance to breathe
it was a hot night and sweat was forming on his brow
he didn’t want his prize possession to get soiled
– it was an old Biltmore fedora
found in the button pusher shop next to the bank on Locke Street

guys busted him a bit for it – as though only men in their 50’s or from the ’50’s could pull it off

the smoke rose up towards the midnight light
and they waited

a little guy would be coming out soon – and when he did…
they would grab him up – casual like but firmly
walk him towards a car parked in the shadows
interrupt him any time he tried to speak
let him know he didn’t have a choice

then

once inside the car
there would be the drive home.

better to call it the ride home than the final ride
to
a final resting place

but where the little guy was going….it was definitely going to be

permanent residence

CBC HAMILTON…..There’s Nothing Cooler Than Seeing your Name For the First Time On A Site As Awesome As This!

It’s so cool to be nominated amongst these other great writers….and to see your name for the first time on anything associated with the CBC especially in Hamilton….well that’s just awesome!

Congrats to the other nominees!

Cheers

Martin Durkin
SteelTown For Mary….

Link to CBC Story Here:

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/hamilton/news/hamilton-good-to-know-monday-literary-awards-crime-prevention-rick-mercer-1.3299908

Thank you to everyone for their support!

More news to Come!

SteelTown is Available through:

BLURB in softcover/hardcover and PDF:

http://www.blurb.ca/b/5271817-steeltown-for-mary

KOBO and KOBO INDIGO/Chapters for eReaders:

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-ca/ebook/steeltown-for-mary

https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/steeltown-for-mary-memoirs-from/9780993774119-item.html?ikwid=steeltown+for+mary&ikwsec=Home&ikwidx=0