Gill To Gill (day 1586)

Make me choke my Chesapeake Bay oysters
Down a long narrow tube called onion
On a salty slab of rust
That juts out from the corner
Of a jagged table now suffering the load
Of my humongous belly,
Sliced from gill to gill
And forgetting the kind manners one usually exhibits
While out dining with guests
In a trendy restaurant
On the East side of town.
Hold my napkin tight to my lapel,
And caress these breasts
That light the night on fire
Through a venomous spray
Of narcotics and other banned substances
Hurled deep into the bowels
Of an East Van back alley entrance,
Identified by a single spotlight
Casting lurking shadows into my side glances
And smelling of stale urine
Upon the disposal bin filled with sour milk.
Knock knock, let me in.

[soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/226308479″ params=”color=ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false” width=”100%” height=”166″ iframe=”true” /]

East Hastings (day 1539)

I watch a line slowly trace a sidewalk
Up a wide street called Hastings.
Glitter trash slipping off
Into fuzzy life lessons in a tracksuit.

I plug my nose because last nights urine party
Leaves a sour taste that makes me uneasy.
But I like the back alleys
Where life is avoided and you avoid eye contact.

Alley walls make me think.
I look at them wondering how many years it’s been
Since the last painting was applied.
How much more graffiti can be tolerated
Before a shop owner thinks they have a more alluring color.

I stay clear of crowds gathering at bus stops.
They loiter and litter,
And ask bus drivers for free fares,
Assuming they’re sober enough to acknowledge
The annoyed union worker.

I’m not afraid to lock my bike here though.
I know the game enough to know when to be walking
Hand in hand with a lover who’s [not] scared.
I know my way home and I’ve got the good places marked.