the day cain slew abel

There’s a graffiti sticker on the cross-walk button at Davie and Jervis that I press every morning on my way to work. It’s a small cartoon man with a hard on and a blank speech balloon. Every day while I’m waiting for the light, I write another message in the empty space. REMEMBER THAT SHE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU. And every day it’s erased by rain. I HAVE A SCHEDULE TO KEEP. Always in sharp blue ink. MEMORIZE HIS FACIAL FEATURES. I feel like maybe I’m waiting to find out which one’s the right answer. THERE MUST BE SOMETHING TERRIBLY WRONG WITH ME. So far, nothing. The next day, it’s wiped clean. PROMISE THE GIRL A GRAND ENTRANCE. I have to try again.


These small moments, tied tight to sailing and dancing and metaphor, these miniature dramatic acts that crash down from the aether to remind us that we live, these in love and hating it, in pain and digesting the chest crushing constriction of too much stress, too much breathing, these times of end times, of just in time, of coming closer, of kissing bitterly or gently saying no moments, these glorious debilitating moments thrown to the bed, to the rain, to the romantics, I either need more of them or I need them to stop. The crashes afterward, it feels like that’s all my life is being constructed from. Alone on a street, I stop and I stare upwards and lose twenty minutes of my life. Again.

what is it you plan to do with your one
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp wild and precious life? ~ mary oliver

Hush, the cars drive by. Shush, close your eyes. No more silence, this is the city. All of our eyes are on the clock, we’re giving it time. Schedules flying. I’m too tired. I haven’t been paying attention. A collection of solitary Man Ray photograph moments. Her tears are made of glass, her eyes are made of yesterday’s favourite songs. Hysteria seems like a waste of time – there will always be a fire in the forest. How else to clear out the undergrowth? Outside there is sunshine.

SHE WANTS TO MATTER. &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp