Parkdale


Street.
Car.
Sunlight reflecting off elementary school windows.
Dog shit.
Greasy glass case holding the Virgin Mary.
Crumpled potato chip bag.
Roses blooming their last.
Brothers drinking Heineken outside the autobody shop.
Traffic light.
Left turn.
Graffiti in the underpass.
Pigeons making amends.
Sweaty men wrestling at the dojo in white uniforms and black belts.
Dirty black gum pounded flat into the sidewalk.
Pop stains.
Pumpkins.
Spit.
Waiting for a fix by the coffee shop.
Newspapered windows.
Rockabilly from the back.
Liming at the roti shop.
Hairdressers on the steps smoking cigarettes.
Curry.
Piss.
Full moon.
No wind.

I looked up- the sky
was all water and sand.
I stepped on glass
And breathed in stone
and reached the paths ahead.

on my way

I walked past a dead racoon,
lying stiff and bloated in the street.
It faced the curb,
Nestled into the wet concrete,
As rainwater
Rushed past
Its body.