wings of ball and chain

3 May

bates street in Montreal is a crossroads;
on one side is a baseball diamond filled with hasidic kids;
their tzitzits waving in the wind like feathers.
on the other side is a dog park filled with dogs;
their well defined limbs bursting through air.
on this day, i’m a voyeur with no access to either.
i swivel my head back and forth between the two and
then beyond the home run fence towards the valley and Laval and
blue mountains and horizon and
i didn’t realize we were so high.
my straight jacket feeling melts.

 

 

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