The obligations were stuffed in my head. The Lij could barely hear the Mot and they were only two drawers apart. But it was no fault of the sealed windows of skyscrapers looking like open mouths screaming down at me or us. I or We eventually surrendered and braved the dance floor of this world; one foot in front of the other, determined to tell everyone everything and just keep talking till they love or hate or both.
the one head universe became a road to bump into with drag racing taking a back seat to the shake around a bit at the park getting high off all the people;making mistakes and “buying apologetic beers for everyone;” thousands of years of human emotion finally mixing with electricity and bursting from stage speakers and ricocheting to our hearts and feeling right and free. this is the latent planet Pluto emerging from inside us all.
this was the dollar store and buying sunglasses, smoking a joint behind St. Pascals’ Church and roaming across montreal towards berri bus station. where everyone started as ships without a rutter or an anchor and water receding behind us and we washing ashore and saying screw it and tossing the last compass and GPS down the sewer. there is no home anyway. we came for hundreds of reasons and no reasons at all and from hundreds of places arriving at ports, bus stations airports, by feet and for what?
eating dollar pizza slices and loitering at McDonalds wanting to day trip with people on apartment floors and up on Mt. Royal, but we scribbled on the backs of mcdonalds paper placements instead; walking through library stacks and open books; grabbing snippets about horse shoe arches, Allister Crowley’s childhood, the life of meerkats, digger socialists, conspiracy theories, catholic oppression.
we were glad to have bought sun glasses pretending to read, but staring instead at a man with Martin Scorsese glasses browsing magazine racks beside a student with young hair and knowing they would make some magic and so would we all all in the future; later that night; in dreams when the pressure and lights dim and we do the real work of the invisible fuel.
still the jungle 