I went over to Vancouver this past weekend to visit family. The city was pretty overwhelming after the quiet and isolation of my little island home. I made a sort of poem of impressions:
On the other side
Funneling across the channel
Drop it off, arranged and prepaid
Mid-river bus glides to the curb
Spilling out Waterfront Station.
Drifting smoke tobacco and skunk
City chic sleek dressed in black
Ice cream bar five dollars
Pull on your high-heel gumboots.
Three hundred pound man
whistles by in a motorized wheelchair,
girlfriend on his knee.
Commissionaire at the courthouse
lends his phone book, old school.
Scavenger navigates his cart,
sporting a cap with no crown.
Unexpectedly on Howe Street,
there is Gosia.
"Fancy meeting you here!"
"Well, of course!"
The language of water.
Silent on the afternoon commute
sits a prince. Spiky Mohawk,
gold ring and leather satchel,
Medicine wheel and Doc Martens.
"Driver, will you let me off on the other side?"