April 9, 2012
Bay street, Toronto
Beautiful faces and light reflecting glass windows,
downtown is like a caravan marching through
the pulsing veins of the concrete valley:
Every step leads to an expectation of
confetti, ticker tape, and cheers
placards declaring, “THE WORK DAY IS DONE.”
the taste of cotton candy on the tip
of my tongue
The air is filled with jubilation
and street meat
as I cross the busy streets
without a care.
A cloud passes and the complexions around me
Turn grim and grey;
spectacle turned procession.
Everyone looks like they haven’t chosen to
be here. Zig zag. Stop. Beep.
Yet here we are watching, being,
sweet turning to sour
gas exhaust and perfumed stores
cannot mask the flesh and bone
sex of the city
I smell the algae in the breeze
coming from the nearby lake.
The crowds become thinner;
dispersed sun-hatted tourists.
Giant clouds move away to reveal
Lone walker am I.
A conquering hero of the midday rush.
Photo by Daniel Scott (used under creative commons license) http://www.flickr.com/photos/danielle_scott/2772777518/sizes/l/in/photostream/
P.S. I loved this piece by Christian Bök : The Morbidity of Conceptual Literature. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/harriet/2012/04/the-morbidity-of-conceptual-literature/